Secret of the Serpent's House
by Musicangel913
Summary: Harry, Draco, and Hermione had quite an eventful first year at Hogwarts. When a sinister monster of legend starts attacking their classmates, their second year quickly proves to be just as interesting - and dangerous - as their first. Twisted canon, sequel to 'Circumstances of an Unexpected Trio'.
1. The Summer Before

**A/N: Welcome back, everyone! This is the sequel to 'Circumstances of an Unexpected Trio' - if you haven't read that, you should probably do so if you don't want to be confused. I promise it's not too bad. :)**

**This chapter's a little short, but it's setting some things up, I suppose. JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R&R, & enjoy! :)**

* * *

"Happy birthday, Ginny!"

The chorus of voices from the large group surrounding her warmed Ginny Weasley to her core. It was August 11, 1992, a day she'd been waiting for since her oldest brother Bill went to Hogwarts – her eleventh birthday. She was thrilled to be celebrating it surrounded by family and friends. That morning, an owl had brought her Hogwarts letter, and she'd squealed with delight when her surprise guests arrived that afternoon. She'd only met Harry, Draco, and Hermione once before when they'd come for Easter dinner, but she'd liked them all almost instantly, and she'd been upset when they'd had to leave. This year, however, it didn't matter – this year, she was finally joining them at Hogwarts.

"Make a wish, dear!" Mrs. Weasley encouraged as she set an enormous chocolate cake in front of her only daughter. Ginny closed her eyes and thought hard before blowing out all eleven candles in one go. Everyone cheered as Molly began to serve the cake, and Ginny smiled broadly at the many happy faces crammed around the Weasleys' kitchen table. So far, this birthday was easily one of her favorites.

Sometime later, when everyone had had their fill of cake and Ginny had opened her gifts, the birthday girl found herself lounging in her room with Hermione. The two girls had bonded at Easter, and Ginny found the older girl to be a genuinely wonderful person – she hoped theirs was the beginning of a lasting friendship.

"How's your summer been, Hermione?" Ginny asked as she flopped down on her bed. "None of us have heard from you in a while – Ron's been worried."

"It's been alright," Hermione replied, picking at a loose thread on the rug. "We all got in so much trouble for what happened at the end of term."

"I heard a little about it, but I don't really know what happened," Ginny admitted. "Tell me?" Hermione conceded and told the redhead all about the adventures she, Ron, Harry, Draco, and Neville had had during the last week of term – there was the three-headed dog, the various challenges, the injuries and Harry's narrow escape from death, the philosopher's stone, the injured unicorn, the eventual knowledge that there was something darker going on…Hermione left nothing out. Ginny made for a perfect audience, gasping and commenting in all the right places, and her eyes were wide when Hermione finished.

"Well, I didn't really know much at all, did I?" she said finally. "I'm almost jealous – it sounds like it was rather fun."

"It was, really," Hermione said with a laugh. "Well…limping through it wasn't all that fun, but the challenges were actually quite the experience. I kind of wonder how the Aurors fared when they faced them." The series of challenges had turned out to be an Auror training course, not a set of protection for the philosopher's stone as they'd originally thought. Despite their disappointment at going through them for nothing, the friends didn't regret their adventures, and they were secretly pleased when Dumbledore praised them for completing the obstacles so successfully.

Their parents and teachers, however, had been less than thrilled – all but Hermione had received a severe scolding before they'd even left Hogwarts, and they'd spent the last night of term scrubbing out dirty cauldrons in the Potions classroom instead of attending the end-of-year feast. When they got home, Harry, Hermione, and Draco got quite the lecture from their parents. The boys' brooms had been taken away for the summer, as had anything else magical that wasn't related to homework, and fun outings had been almost nonexistent save for a trip to the zoo on Harry's twelfth birthday. Hermione and the boys had spent most of the summer watching coverage of the Barcelona Olympics on telly and playing Muggle games in the backyard, but they missed the magical aspect of their lives and couldn't wait until their punishment was over.

"Oy, you lot!" a familiar voice called. Hermione and Ginny looked out the window to see Ron, Harry, and Draco standing in the Burrow's backyard. "It's time for the scavenger hunt!"

"Coming!" The girls hurried downstairs, put on their shoes, and raced outside to join the boys. Mrs. Weasley gave everyone a list and sent them on their way, and the next two hours were lost in the fun of the search. In the end, Harry won a large box of chocolate frogs for finding the most items, and they were all in a good mood by the time Harry, Hermione, and Draco had to leave.

"See you in a few weeks!" Ginny said as her friends walked away from the Burrow to the Disapparition point.

"Bye! Happy birthday!" they called back. They clasped hands with Lily, who'd come to pick them up, and disappeared with a _pop._

* * *

No – _no,_ this couldn't be happening! This couldn't be right – the Potter boy was dead! He'd seen it with his own eyes…and yet, he hadn't actually confirmed it, had he? He'd blindly trusted that Quirrell had done the job satisfactorily. Clearly, that was a mistake. There was no denying the identity of the boy he'd seen earlier, none at all. Despite all his efforts, Harry Potter still lived. Well, then. It was a good thing he hadn't gone to the Dark Lord – not that he knew where the Dark Lord was in the first place, but his master definitely didn't take kindly to false information, especially not when something like this was concerned. No, he needed a new plan, one that would succeed where the first had failed. He still had his cover, which made getting into Hogwarts easy – coming up with a new idea shouldn't be a problem.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore pored over the latest report from the Auror department and sighed. Nothing. There'd hardly been any evidence at all regarding the mysterious events of the last year, and so far, none of it had turned up anything conclusive. There wasn't even any evidence that Quirrell hadn't been acting of his own accord the entire time and just made up the Imperius story to throw them off track…but no, he didn't think that was the case. He'd known Quirinus for years, and the young man simply wasn't the type, not at all. The poor professor had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time, Dumbledore was sure of it. Unfortunately, this theory was the most problematic, as it left him without a name. He couldn't even guarantee that something similar wouldn't happen this year, seeing as he had no idea how the attacker had gained access to Hogwarts, if the attacker had even been on the grounds at all.

He also wasn't getting any further in his investigation of Voldemort's whereabouts or motives. The events of the last year, while troublesome, did very little to shed light on the dark wizard's next move. However, they did seem to cement Dumbledore's theory that Voldemort had chosen Harry as the 'correct answer' to the prophecy Sybil Trelawney had made many years before. The old wizard still didn't know why, nor did he fully understand the contents of the prophecy, but he knew he had to figure it out soon. Things were only getting more complicated as time went on, and he had a lot of work to do.

* * *

Yes – it was perfect. So perfect. It was pure luck that he'd come across the diary in the first place, but really – Lucius Malfoy should've come up with a better hiding place. He didn't really understand the finer workings of the thing, but he knew enough about it to know that it should suffice for his plans.

The door creaked, and Arthur Weasley looked up, his expression wary.

"Who are you?" he demanded. "What do you want?" The intruder leered at him, revealing yellowed, uneven teeth.

"From you? Very little," he replied. _"Imperio!"_


	2. Locked Out

"Harry! Draco! Let's go, we're going to be late!" Lily called. Thumps and bangs were heard as the boys thundered down the stairs, owl cages in tow. Their Hogwarts trunks were already in the car, but they were definitely cutting it close to make the train on time.

"Are you _sure_ you have everything?" Lily asked as the boys reached the foyer, panting heavily from their race to the door. "Obviously I can send along anything you forgot, but you'll find yourselves in a predicament tomorrow if you've forgotten your socks or your toothbrush..."

"Mum, we're fine!" Harry interrupted. "We triple-checked everything last night, I think we're good."

"Alright, alright. Into the car with you!"

"Aren't we waiting for the Grangers?" Draco asked as he carefully placed his tawny owl, Berenice, on the backseat.

"No - they left early, the Grangers have a meeting at 10:30," Lily replied. "Hermione will meet you on the train." Disappointed that Hermione wasn't traveling with them but content that he'd see her at Kings Cross, Draco nodded and hopped into the car. Harry followed suit, and they were on their way. They'd been gone less than ten minutes, however, when Harry yelled, "Stop!"

"What is it?" Padfoot asked.

"Our brooms - we forgot our brooms!"

"Dammit," Lily muttered under her breath. "We're already cutting it close..." But they couldn't leave without the broomsticks - Harry was on his house Quidditch team, and Draco had been talking about trying out as well. Their brooms, however, had been locked away all summer as part of their punishment for going down the trapdoor, so nobody had realized they'd been overlooked. There was no way they could guarantee the broomsticks would arrive before trials if they posted them, so Lily had no choice but to turn the car around and race back to the house.

By the time they reached Kings Cross, they had just fifteen minutes to get themselves and all of their luggage safely stowed aboard the Hogwarts Express. Sirius hastily grabbed a trolley and heaved the boys' trunks and owls onto it, and they raced through the station as quickly as the large crowd would allow. Finally, the hidden entrance to Platform 9 3/4 was in sight.

"Draco and I will go first with the trunks, and you can follow us," Sirius said, slightly out of breath as he balanced on the trolley.

"Right. See you in a minute," Lily replied. Without another word, the two Blacks vanished through the barrier and out of sight.

"Ready?" Lily asked. Harry nodded.

"Let's go." They made their way to the barrier and leaned against, it, trying to look casual.

Nothing happened.

"What's going on?" Harry asked. "Why didn't we go through?"

"I don't know," Lily answered, looking worried. The giant clock overhead read five minutes to eleven.

"Maybe we tried to go through too soon after the others?" Harry suggested.

"I don't think so..." They waited thirty agonizing seconds before trying again. Just as before, they merely seemed to be leaning against a wall, firmly stuck in the Muggle world. No secret platform appeared, and no other students arrived asking to know why they couldn't get through. For some reason, the barrier had sealed itself.

The station clock chimed the hour.

"We're too late," Harry said, sounding slightly panicky. "The Express always leaves right on time..."

"You're right," his mother sighed. "It looks like you're not taking the train to school this year."

"But...how am I supposed to get there if I'm not on the train?" Harry asked. "It's not like we could drive there, and even if we could, it's Unplottable..."

"You've been listening to Hermione too much," Lily chuckled. "Don't worry, I've got another way I can get you there. But first, we need to get home - we need to send the others a message so they know what's happened."

* * *

Draco stood in the outer door of one of the Hogwarts Express' many carriages, his grey eyes scanning the platform intently. Harry and Lily hadn't immediately followed like they'd said they would, but there were so many people that it was possible he'd simply missed them. The clock above the platform struck eleven, and the train began to move, a loud blast sounding from its whistle. With a shrug, the blonde boy shut the door and made his way down the corridor. His brother had to be here _somewhere..._

"Draco - _Draco!"_

Draco looked up and grinned. Sticking her head out of a compartment halfway down the carriage was his best friend, Hermione Granger. He'd seen her just last night when their two families had gone out to dinner together, but it already seemed like too long. He made his way down the carriage as fast as the moving train would allow and engulfed her in a hug.

"Need to breathe, Dragon," Hermione chided, her face blocked by her thick brown hair.

"Sorry, Lotte." Draco laughed quietly and released her, meeting her gaze. "Am I not allowed to miss you?"

"Oh, stop," Hermione said, blushing furiously. "We just saw each other last night!"

"I know, I know - I was just teasing you." Draco gave her another squeeze, and she led him into the compartment, where he was greeted by Neville Longbottom, Tracey Davis, and Ron and Ginny Weasley.

"Hey, Draco!" Neville said, smiling broadly. "Good to see you again!"

"Same to you," Draco replied. "Tracey, Ron, Ginny - how are you all?" They each gave varying positive responses before Draco addressed Tracey. "Good to see you here - is Blaise around?" Tracey brushed a strand of caramel-colored hair out of her eyes and shrugged.

"He decided to stop in and say hi to Nott first," she said. "If you ask me, he's too nice - Nott's probably grilling him about something stupid."

"Probably me," Draco said with a snort. Theodore Nott had been a thorn in their sides since day one, giving them grief about everything from Hermione's blood status to Draco's unconventional familial situation. He was a cold, manipulative boy who followed his father's 'purebloods are superior' teachings to the letter, and none of them expected that to have magically changed over the summer.

"Where's Harry?" Ron asked suddenly. "He should've come with you, yeah?"

"He did," Draco said. "At least, he came with me to the station. He never made it through the barrier though, even though he was right behind me when Padfoot and I came through."

"Do you think something happened to them?" Hermione asked, sounding worried.

"I don't think so. I mean, Lily can more than handle herself, so I doubt they're in any real trouble. Still, I wish I knew why the platform had stopped them from coming through."

At that moment, their compartment door slid open to reveal Blaise Zabini, a tall, dark-skinned Italian. Normally, Blaise was very easygoing, but now, he looked highly annoyed.

"Nott's bloody irritating," he said, rolling his eyes and taking the empty seat next to Tracey. "Keeps going on about how he spent his summer 'in the highest of company' - is it any wonder I can't stand him?"

"You're the one who insisted on stopping to say hi," Tracey reminded him, mimicking his eye roll with a smirk.

"Ok, so I made a mistake - serves me right for being nice. Good to see you by the way, Drake."

The discussion quickly turned to lighter topics, and the friends were soon laughing as they swapped stories about their summers. In spite of the fun, however, they couldn't help but wonder - where was Harry?

* * *

Harry, as it transpired, was on his way back to Surrey. The car ride was quiet, Lily's occasional muttering the only thing breaking the silence.

"Lily, what happened?" Sirius demanded as soon as they walked in the front door. "We waited for you, but you never came through the barrier. Draco's on the train, but Harry's-"

"Right here," Harry finished, looking as glum as he felt. "I'm right here."

"The barrier sealed itself, wouldn't let us through," Lily explained. "I'm sending a note to the kids and one to Dumbledore, and then we'll figure out a way to get Harry to school."

"That explains why I had to Apparate home," Sirius said with a nod. "I don't suppose I could take Harry to Hogwarts by Side-Along Apparition?"

"That's an awfully long way to Apparate," Lily said, looking doubtful. "I'd prefer if we could get a little closer before resorting to that - the last thing we need today is somebody getting splinched halfway through Scotland." She rummaged through her desk drawer as she spoke and pulled out a square of parchment the size of a postcard. Harry immediately felt relieved to see it - he, Draco, and Hermione each had a similar piece of parchment, all of them charmed to send messages back and forth, and though he'd thought of using it to tell them what was going on while they were still in London, his piece was locked in his trunk, which was on the train and therefore useless.

"What's the chance either Draco or Hermione has their parchment on them?" Lily asked as she scribbled.

"Pretty high," Harry said. "If Draco doesn't, Hermione definitely will - she pretty much always has it in her pocket."

"Perfect." Lily finished her message and added _'To - HJG' _at the top. The words vanished. "Hopefully they'll get that and know not to worry." She stashed the charmed parchment in her desk again and pulled out her wand.

_"Expecto Patronum!"_ A shining silver animal - it looked like a deer - emerged and stood perfectly still, as if awaiting instructions. Lily quietly gave the deer a message, and it gave a small nod before bounding silently out of sight.

"Wow - that was...beautiful," Harry murmured. "What was it?"

"It's a Patronus," Lily answered. "A...guardian, of sorts, against evil. Dumbledore taught the Order how to send messages via Patronus, which is what I just did."

"Are they all like that - deer, I mean?"

"No - each Patronus is unique to the wizard who conjures it," Lily said. "Your father's Animagus form was a stag - a male deer. My Patronus, then, is a doe, the mate to his."

"So your Patronus matches that of your partner?"

"Not necessarily. Sometimes it happens that way, whereas sometimes it's just a form of some significance to you, or that reflects your personality somehow. Professor McGonagall's, for instance, is a cat like her Animagus form, and Dumbledore's-"

"Is some sort of bird," Harry said, suddenly remembering the gleaming creature Dumbledore had conjured during their chat in the hospital wing at the end of last term.

"A phoenix," Lily prompted.

"Oh, like the Order - I get it."

"Exactly. He also has a pet phoenix, Fawkes - I hope you get to meet him sometime, he's a beautiful bird."

As if on cue, a silver phoenix materialized in the middle of the sitting room, speaking in Dumbledore's voice:

"The Knight Bus should be fine - you can take it to Hogsmeade and Apparate from there. Please send confirmation."

Lily hastily sent another Patronus - "Yes please, that will work fine" - and turned to her son.

"I hate the Knight Bus," she muttered, "but I guess it'll have to do."

"I can take him, Lil," Sirius offered. "You've had enough stress for one day."

"Thanks, Padfoot."

"What's the Knight Bus?" Harry asked.

"A very adventurous way to travel," Sirius said with a chuckle. "Why don't you do one last check to make sure you're not missing anything, and then we'll head out." Harry ran upstairs and quickly scanned his and Draco's bedrooms for anything they might've forgotten - aside from a spare quill and a rough draft of Draco's charms essay, Harry found nothing, so he returned to the foyer empty handed.

"All ready, then?" Harry nodded and gave his mother a hug before following Sirius outside.

"So how do we catch this Knight Bus, then?" he asked. "Do wizards have bus stops too?" Sirius laughed.

"Nope. We go like this." He thrust out his wand arm. With a bang like a cannon, a triple-decker bus in a violent shade of purple appeared on the curb, and a young conductor leaped to the pavement and began speaking.

"'Ello and welcome to the Knight Bus, perfect travel for the stranded witch or wizard. My name's Stan, and I'll be your conductor this afternoon. Where might we be takin' ya today, sirs?"

"Hogsmeade," Sirius replied. "The station will do."

"Right, then - two for Hogsmeade, comin' right up! Step on board, if you please." Stan moved aside to allow Sirius and Harry access to the stairs, which they climbed until they reached the top deck. Sirius paid Stan their fare, and they settled into their seats. Another bang, and the bus was suddenly barreling along a deserted country lane that looked nothing like the Muggle suburb they'd just left.

"What the-" Harry muttered, massaging his head where he'd hit it on the window. Many of the chairs surrounding them had toppled right over when the bus had moved.

"I'd say we just jumped a couple hundred miles," Sirius said, sniggering a little. "Probably should've warned you before the bus took off."

"Thanks a lot, Padfoot," Harry grumbled. He'd already decided he didn't like the Knight Bus very much.

* * *

Hermione yelped suddenly, interrupting Ron's heated soliloquy about the Cannons' latest match.

"What's up, Lotte?" Draco asked. Hermione said nothing but wriggled in her seat and extracted a small piece of parchment from her pocket. Draco recognized it instantly and leaned over her shoulder to read the message:

_Barrier sealed itself, not sure why but we're fine. I brought Harry home and we're going to find another way to get him to school - I'll have him there by the feast, don't worry!_

_Much love,_

_Lily_

"Well, that doesn't tell us very much," Draco muttered. He raised his head and addressed the rest of the compartment. "Harry's fine, he couldn't get through the barrier so Lily and Padfoot are going to get him to Hogwarts another way." The others immediately struck up a conversation, wondering why Harry couldn't get on the train and how Lily was going to get him to school.

The parchment heated again some fifteen minutes later:

_Harry's taking the Knight Bus with Padfoot - he'll be waiting when you get there!_

"What's the Knight Bus?" Hermione asked. Blaise groaned.

"Be glad you're not on it," he said. "My mother and I took it to our new house when we first came to England - the thing can jump like a hundred miles in a second. It's fast, but it's really not a fun way to travel." Ron, Ginny, and Tracey expressed similar sentiments, and Neville said his grandmother had heard too many horror stories about the bus and refused to take it. Hermione and Draco looked at each other, eyebrows raised.

"Sounds like Harry's had a rough day," Hermione said. "Hopefully they have some treacle tart at the feast, that'll cheer him up."

* * *

**A/N: Wow - it makes me so happy to see so many people continuing on this little adventure with me! Hope you like what I've got in store.**

**Thanks to AllWasWell07, Arden Ranger, Awii Eloise, CrimsonAngel1992, Darman Skirata, EmilyWoods, Gaia Mystica, Kasyntra, KodeV, Lawstudent092, MagnafloriousWorld, Maraudersgal1989, Montyyx, Owlete, SJHP, SlytherinSilverStar, TheBravestOfThemAll, Tori Kay, anmarie, croaker2003, dancelikeyoujustdontcare, dianaanne, fawks18HPHG, inosculation, l0stinl0ve, littlelizruth, moriahhh, mssweetychessgir, my darling ferocious105, narsil1995, neshy, silent song of shadows, sthrnpanther06, twilight4eternity, twistedartist, vivekgk3, xoRetributionox, Nikki2202, VSSI, ajaye, jetsamsrule31, kathlynscutekid, mmweav, & rugratfeen for the follows/faves (yes, that is an absurdly long list, but I couldn't not thank you!) Thanks to AllWasWell07, silent song of shadows, KodeV, mssweetychessgir, & EmilyWoods for the reviews! As I've said before, you guys are the best, all of you.**

**JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R&R, & enjoy! :)**


	3. Another Eventful Start

Just has Lily had promised, Harry was waiting for them when the carriages dropped them off at Hogwarts. Hermione passed him a set of his robes, which she'd grabbed from his trunk before they left the train, and everyone else greeted Harry enthusiastically, peppering him with questions about his unusual day. Harry sighed.

"Can we just go inside and talk about this later?" he asked. "I'm exhausted and really hungry." After his eventful trip on the Knight Bus, he hadn't had much of an appetite for lunch and therefore hadn't eaten very much. His friends agreed, and the group traipsed into the Great Hall, where Draco, Tracey, and Blaise went left while Harry followed Hermione, Neville, and Ron to the right. They settled into seats halfway along the Gryffindor table and immediately began chatting with some of their classmates while they waited for the Sorting to begin.

Harry was incredibly anxious for the feast to start, and as a result, the Sorting seemed to take a torturously long amount of time. He clapped politely whenever a new student joined Gryffindor's ranks, but his protesting stomach was first and foremost on his mind as each successive first-year stepped up to the stool. He cheered loudly when Ginny's Sorting finished, both because she'd been made a Gryffindor and because she was the last student on Professor McGonagall's list. Ginny hastened to their table and took the empty seat next to Hermione, and after a few quick words from Dumbledore, the feast appeared.

"Who d'you reckon that new teacher is, then?" Neville asked as he buttered his potatoes, nodding towards the man seated beside Professor Sinistra. The mystery wizard wore bright blue robes with a matching hat, the color a sharp contrast to the more subdued hues favored by the rest of the staff and the black of the students' uniforms. His golden hair was perfectly coiffed, and he had the remarkable – and somewhat disturbing – ability to show all of his blindingly white teeth even while eating.

"You don't recognize him?" Hermione asked. "That's Gilderoy Lockhart."

"You mean the bloke who wrote all our new Defense books?" Harry said.

"Yeah. Don't you remember – there are tons of pictures in those books. Rather ridiculous ones, I might add, but still – he's not exactly difficult to pick out from a crowd, don't you think?" The friends glanced back up at Lockhart, noticing once again how much his attire stood out, and decided Hermione had a point.

"But what's he doing here, then?" Ron asked after a minute.

"Unless he's just dropped in for a visit, I'd guess he's our new Defense teacher." Hermione shrugged. "It's the only open position, isn't it?" They lapsed into silence and pondered this thought over pudding, the only sounds the scraping of cutlery against plates. When the last traces of dessert had vanished, Dumbledore stood.

"Good evening!" he said jovially. "Good evening and welcome back! I hope your summers left you well rested and ready to jump right into your lessons. Before we send you on your way, I'd like to introduce our newest staff member – Professor Gilderoy Lockhart!" Professor Lockhart stood and beamed at them all, either not noticing or not caring that the staff's applause at his introduction seemed rather forced.

"Hello!" He boomed. "It's _such_ a pleasure to be back, isn't it? An _honor_ to be teaching here – but then, it's an honor for you as well! Allow me to properly introduce myself – Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five-time winner of _Witch Weekly's_ Most-Charming-Smile Award!" He paused to flash what he clearly thought was a winning smile; Harry just thought he looked rather cheeky.

"I won't keep you, though!" Lockhart continued. "I'll save the real honor for when we all meet in class. Cheerio!"

"Dear Merlin," Ron muttered as Lockhart resumed his seat to a smattering of awkward applause, "Dumbledore expects us to put up with _that_ all year?"

"I don't like badmouthing professors if I can help it," Hermione said, "but I think I'm inclined to agree with you, Ron. I have a feeling that this has the potential to go down the tubes _really_ quickly…"

Dumbledore stood for a final time and gave the usual notices, reminding them to stay out of the Forbidden Forest, check the list of banned items on Filch's office door, and introducing the new Head Boy and Girl before sending them all to bed. Gryffindor Tower was as warm and inviting as always, and after such an exhausting day, it wasn't long before everyone was sound asleep.

The first few days of term passed in a whirlwind as professors conducted quick review sessions while simultaneously imparting new knowledge on their students. At lunch on Thursday, Harry received a charmed message:

_You lot had Defense yet?_

_No,_ Harry replied. _I take it you have?_

_Unfortunately._ The response was written in a much different hand than Draco's – it looked too masculine to be Tracey's, so Harry assumed it was Blaise's. A flowing, girly script followed – it seemed the Slytherin trio was sharing Draco's parchment:

_Lockhart's…interesting._

_Don't be daft, Trace, he's ridiculous._

_'Interesting' can have any number of connotations, Blaise. _

_Right…just consider yourselves warned._

_We have him right after lunch,_ Harry scribbled. _We can compare notes later._

_If you need an out, we'll be in Charms._ This last message was Draco again, and Harry laughed at his brother's implications.

"Our dungeon comrades gave Lockhart a glowing review," Harry said, showing the parchment to his friends. Ron snorted, and Hermione laughed in spite of herself.

"I guess we'll just have to see if he's – how did Tracey put it? – as _interesting_ as they're suggesting," she said. She checked her watch and added, "We'd better get going – class starts in ten minutes."

Much to their chagrin, the Gryffindors quickly discovered that their Slytherin friends hadn't been exaggerating – in fact, they'd left out quite a lot. Professor Lockhart spent the entire class period quizzing them on his life story before delving into overly dramatic tales of his many accomplishments. Harry tried to pass the time by keeping track of how many times Lockhart flashed his teeth – he lost count at twenty-two – but that could only do so much. By the end of the lesson, he was quite sure the only thing he had learned had been that there were a number of people out there surely in need of help to rid themselves of the memories of their time with Lockhart. As soon as the bell rang, Harry bolted from the classroom, his friends in tow.

After dinner that evening, the group met in the Room of Requirement for the first time that year. Draco brought Tracey and Blaise with him, and the two Slytherins were in awe at the room's impressive capabilities – as soon as it sensed the presence of seven people instead of the usual five, the room expanded in size and added another sofa and two extra armchairs.

"So…Lockhart," Blaise said casually as he draped his long legs over his chair's armrest.

"Ugh," Ron groaned. "Don't even start. He's awful!"

"He is rather full of himself, isn't he?" Hermione agreed. "I'd much rather be learning about his defense techniques than listening to him recount his quests."

"That's the thing, though," Draco noted. "Have you noticed there's really very little on actual defense in the books?"

"That's what I mean," Hermione replied. "His books tell us the who, what, where, when, and why, but they don't tell us the _how._"

"I'm sure we'll get to that eventually," Harry said, trying to sound optimistic. "Isn't that kind of the point, after all? Dumbledore wouldn't have hired him if he was completely useless, would he?"

"He might not have had a choice," Tracey said, twisting a lock of hair around her finger and looking deep in thought. "I mean, the DADA job's supposedly cursed – no one's lasted more than a year for a while now. I can't imagine there are too many applicants for a job like that, especially not after what happened to the last one." The Ministry and the _Daily Prophet_ had kept quiet about the circumstances surrounding Professor Quirrell's death, either not believing or not wanting to admit that Voldemort was indirectly involved, but that hadn't stopped the students from talking over the break, and as a result, most of the Wizarding world knew at the very least that the young man had died. The curse rumor had been circulating for years, and although it couldn't be proved, the evidence in the theory's favor was overwhelming.

"If that's the case, Lockhart's either really brave or really stupid," Neville said with a small laugh. "Or maybe he just doesn't know – with him, it could be anything, really."

As the first week went by, it became clear that the majority of the other students shared their views on Lockhart's class. The only objections were Percy, who narrowed his eyes and took points from anyone who dared 'stoop so low as to question the ability of authority figures' (even Hermione scoffed at that), and a small portion of the school's female population. At breakfast one morning, the Gryffindors overheard Lavender Brown telling Parvati Patil what a wonderful teacher she thought Lockhart was. Ron snorted into his oatmeal, and Harry's eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hair.

"Oh, brother," Hermione muttered. "She's only saying that because she thinks he's attractive." Her demeanor was entirely nonchalant, and she continued buttering her toast as if she'd merely commented on the weather, but Ron nearly choked on his pumpkin juice at her statement.

"She…_what?_" He coughed violently. "You're joking, right?"

"Please, Ron," Hermione replied, rolling her eyes. "I live with Lavender – she's in love with every male that moves. I'm pretty sure she owns more issues of _Witch Weekly _than she does textbooks. And I certainly didn't say I agree with her," she reminded him.

"Well, that's good," he said once he'd stopped coughing. "Attractive, seriously? Maybe compared to the Bandon Banshee…"

In spite of their dreadful Defense lessons, life at Hogwarts was otherwise as eventful as always. Snape made them all nervous as they spent hours toiling over their cauldrons, the steam rising from their potions clouding the dungeon and making them sweat, and McGonagall told them in no uncertain terms that they'd better brush up on their notes from last year if they wanted to have any sort of success this term. Professor Sprout started teaching them all about Mandrakes, curious plants that were shaped like screaming babies and ten times as temperamental. Harry wondered why on earth second-years would ever study something that could easily kill them by the time it was fully grown, but Professor Sprout assured them that Mandrakes were extraordinarily useful in various potions and draughts, so the students kept quiet and concentrated on their potting soil.

On top of their schoolwork, Harry had something else to occupy his time, as Quidditch practice started up again just over a week into the term. Wood dragged them out of bed when it was still dark and spent nearly an hour going over new tactics before putting them to work. By the time the team made it to breakfast, they were dirty and exhausted, but exhilarated in a way that only a good hard practice could produce.

The third time Wood woke his team up for practice, Neville, Hermione, and Ron decided to tag along. They took seats in the stands and munched on toast while the Gryffindor team worked through their drills. Hermione shrieked loudly and then burst into laughter when the Snitch stopped to flutter just over their heads – Harry saw the little ball and rocketed straight towards his friends, pulling out of the way just in time with his prize clutched in his fist and a wicked grin on his face.

"Harry James Potter, I swear-" Hermione began, still laughing, but she didn't get a chance to finish before another voice interrupted her:

"Alright, Wood, time to clear out!" The Gryffindors looked down to see seven emerald-clad people standing in the middle of the pitch. Harry flew down to land next to his teammates while Hermione, Neville, and Ron followed as quickly as they could.

"What do you want, Flint?" Wood nearly spat as he faced the Slytherin captain. Flint leered at him.

"We want to practice of course," he said haughtily.

"But this is our practice time," Wood replied. "Clear out."

"Ah, ah, ah," Flint taunted. "Didn't your mummy ever teach you to share? The pitch is plenty big enough for all of us, I've got permission from Snape, and I need to train my new players."

"New players?" Wood asked. "What's it matter if you have new players? You don't get extra practice time for that. Who are they, anyway?"

"New Chasers," Flint said smugly. He stepped aside, and the Gryffindors saw two people they hadn't noticed before: a tall, broad-shouldered older boy they didn't know, and…

"Draco!" Hermione cried, she and the boys having just caught up to the group. "You didn't tell us you made the team!"

"I wanted it to be a surprise," he said with a shrug, an enormous grin stretched across his face. Hermione ran to his side and embraced him tightly before stepping back and punching his arm.

"Git," she said, sticking her tongue out at him. "You _knew_ we'd want to know."

"Well, isn't this touching," a new voice drawled. "Malfoy, I thought you could sink no lower." The group turned to the newcomer.

"Nott," Draco snarled, glaring at his housemate, "my surname is _Black."_

"I don't think it really matters, does it?" Nott sneered, buffing his fingernails on his robes. "You're a disgrace to either name, fraternizing with blood traitors and Mudbloods…" He practically spat the last word in Hermione's direction.

"I told you _not_ to call her that, you arse!" Before anyone could react, Ron whipped out his wand and sent a jet of light sailing towards Nott, who doubled over when it hit him in the face. They didn't have to wait long to learn what curse Ron had used, as the dark-haired Slytherin almost immediately began spewing soap bubbles. The Slytherins began shouting at Ron, and the Gryffindors drew their wands, more than ready for a fight, when a sharp bark cut through the air:

"What is the meaning of this?" Madam Hooch was striding purposefully across the field, looking angry.

"Weasley hexed Theodore Nott," one of the Slytherins said at once.

"Only because he called Hermione Granger a Mudblood!" Katie Bell shot back.

"We don't want her kind around-"

"Nott deserved it, he was insulting Draco too-"

"Enough!" Madam Hooch yelled over the din. "Fighting on the Quidditch pitch, I'm extremely disappointed in all of you." She pointed to the Slytherin Beaters. "You two, get Mr. Nott to the hospital wing. The rest of you, clear off – practice is over. I'll be speaking to your Heads of House about this. Mr. Weasley, come with me."

Professor McGonagall was fair and listened to all sides of the story, but Ron didn't escape punishment. He lost Gryffindor twenty points and was assigned detention, and he was even more livid when he found out that Snape hadn't been nearly as harsh on Nott. He came back from detention nursing sore muscles, having been made to do quite a bit of scrubbing without magic.

"I don't regret cursing him," Ron spat as he sank into an empty armchair. "Nott's a prat."

"He is, but you've got to keep your temper in check," Draco warned, nudging a pawn towards Harry's rook. "Nott's dad's a Death Eater, remember? He's definitely capable of doing far worse to you."

"I don't care," Ron sulked. "He still deserved it."

"Thank you, Ron," Hermione cut in. "I appreciate the thought, I really do. Just…be careful, alright? It's just a word, and definitely not one that's worth getting hurt over."

* * *

**A/N: Alrighty then...I think I've reached the point where thanking everyone individually would leave me with a _very_ long A/N & a bunch of annoyed readers. That doesn't make me appreciate you all any less, though - I really am honored! Thank you, really, for every follow, fave, & review I've gotten on this chapter. Also, I don't know that I've mentioned this before, but I look at the profiles of everyone who follows/faves/reviews my stories - if you're taking the time to read my work, returning the favor is the least I can do (& even if you're just on here to read, you've probably given me a bunch of good fics on your faves list, so thanks!)**

**Hope you enjoyed the chapter - JKR owns all things Potter, obviously. Please R&R, & thanks again! :)**


	4. Yet Another Bad Halloween

Everyone had settled into their normal routine by the second week of term, and Harry and his friends found the new year's curriculum highly enjoyable. In addition to the Mandrakes, which they'd be caring for all year, Greenhouse Three provided them with all sorts of exotic plants to study in Herbology, and they started to see some of those plants cropping up in Potions class as well. One morning, Professor Sprout surprised them all by saying they wouldn't be working in the greenhouses at all but instead taking a field trip. Curious and more than a little interested, the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs followed her away from the greenhouses and across the lawn, nearly all the way to the lake. They stopped a short distance away from the strangest-looking tree any of them had ever seen. It was on the tall side, as many trees were, and if the thickness of its trunk were anything to go by, it was quite old. The most singular feature of the tree, however, was its branches, which were whipping violently in all directions despite the absolute lack of wind.

"Don't get too close, now," Professor Sprout warned them. Harry thought it a rather pointless warning – _he_ certainly wasn't going any closer to those branches if he could help it.

"What is it, Professor?" one of the Hufflepuffs asked, gazing up at the tree with a strange sort of awe.

"The Whomping Willow," Professor Sprout replied, looking almost proud. Harry wasn't quite sure how the tree resembled a willow – from what he knew, a willow's branches were thin and delicate, whereas this tree's limbs were thick and dangerous – but he knew that things in the Muggle world didn't always compare to things in the Wizarding world.

"The tree is nearly a century old," Professor Sprout was saying, "but it wasn't planted here until just over twenty years ago. Whomping Willows are very rare, and we're privileged to have an exceptionally fine specimen." She told the assembled students a little more about the willow's finer points before setting them to work drawing a sketch of the tree.

"I want a complete sketch, with all parts labeled, by the end of the lesson," she told them. "You're free to spread out, but take care not to get any closer."

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville found a promising-looking grassy spot and set to work, quills scratching against their parchment as they attempted to replicate the plant before them.

"This'll be the first time I fail a Herbology assignment," Neville joked as he worked. "I'm awful at drawing."

"At least you're better than me," Ron replied, holding up his drawing with a grin. It was little more than a stick figure, and the friends laughed heartily.

"Ron, you have to at least try," Hermione scolded, though she was laughing too.

"Sad thing is, I did – I really just can't draw. I'll bet Dean's is perfect, huh?" Their fellow Gryffindor had a passion for art and regularly hung new drawings on the walls in the boys' dormitory. He was quite talented.

"Maybe you should…try to give it some substance, or something," Harry suggested, critically studying his own work. "Not bad, I guess," he finally decided, and set to labeling the picture.

"Well, isn't this a _glorious_ day for a photo op!"

The quartet looked at each other and groaned – unfortunately, they knew that voice. They looked up to see Professor Lockhart beaming at the scattered students. What on earth was _he_ doing out here?

"A weeping willow!" he said brightly. "A fantastic tree, I've dealt with them before, you know." Hermione frowned.

"That is most definitely _not_ a weeping willow," she murmured, and the boys nodded in agreement.

"Why's he out here, anyway?" Harry asked. "Doesn't he have his own classes to teach?" As if he'd heard them, Lockhart turned towards their little group, his smile growing even wider at the sight of Harry.

"Why, if it isn't Harry Potter!" he chirped. "My, my, my, isn't this just _perfect?_ Harry, what would you say to being in a photo with me?"

"I…_what?"_ Harry sputtered.

"A photo, dear boy! My goodness, and here I thought you were bright. I've heard all the rumors about you, you know – complete nonsense, I'm sure – but if you want to turn that into _real_ fame, a photo with me will guarantee your rise to stardom!" Lockhart said this as if it were the best thing in the world. Hermione tried not to roll her eyes, and Ron made gagging motions when Lockhart turned his back.

"Miss Granger! You can take the photo for us!" Lockhart suddenly thrust a huge, old-fashioned camera into Hermione's hands while simultaneously pulling Harry to his feet. "Smile big now, Harry! This photo could be the ticket to your future!" Hermione fiddled with the knobs on the camera and smiled sympathetically at her friend before snapping the picture and engulfing them all in a cloud of violet smoke. Lockhart thanked her heartily before taking the camera and attempting to engage an annoyed Professor Sprout in conversation. Harry dropped to his knees, his face bright red with embarrassment, and Hermione sat beside him, placing a hand on his arm.

"Maybe your photo self will refuse to stay in the picture," she suggested. "You're smart, after all. Or maybe Lockhart forgot to put film in the camera." Harry chuckled and cheered up a little at the thought.

"Let's hope so," he said. "Thanks, Maya." He pulled her in for a brief hug before turning back to his assignment.

Homework, class, and extracurriculars kept everyone busy, and the days flew by. Harry, like Hermione, initially gave Draco grief for keeping them in the dark about his newfound status on the Slytherin Quidditch team, but he then expressed how brilliant it was that Draco had made it – the three friends were all equally Quidditch-crazy, and Draco had mentioned the trials many times over the summer. It was even better that Draco had made the team as a Chaser, as the brothers wouldn't be directly pitted against one another on the field. They happily discussed Quidditch long into the night, and they even got to listen to a few matches when Hermione persuaded the room to provide them with a wireless. Of course, not all of the matches they heard were Puddlemere – Blaise supported a team from Sicily, and Ron bled Chudley Cannons orange – but the friends had fun cheering no matter what team was on that day.

Days turned into weeks, and before they knew it, it was the end of October.

"Happy Halloween!" Hermione said brightly as the boys strolled into breakfast on the morning of the thirty-first. Ron mumbled an incoherent greeting and reached for the sausages, and Harry rolled his eyes at the redhead's inability to wake up without food.

"Hopefully it'll be better than last year's, yeah?" he said as he helped himself to scrambled eggs. Hermione quickly agreed – she'd spent most of the previous Halloween crying in the bathroom after Ron had insulted her, and she, Ron, Harry, and Draco had then battled a vicious mountain troll. Surely anything was better than that.

As it was a Saturday, they didn't have to worry about classes, and the friends passed the morning enjoying a rare bit of pleasant weather by the lake. After lunch, it began to rain, so they retreated to the Room of Requirement, where they played countless rounds of wizard's chess and Exploding Snap while listening to a Cannons match on the wireless. The game ended with a controversial Snitch capture and a lot of yelling on Ron's part, and the rest of the group was still laughing as they made their way to the Great Hall for the Halloween feast.

"Wow," Hermione breathed, taking in the sight of the enormous carved pumpkins and the clouds of live bats. She hadn't really gotten to appreciate the decorations the year before and gazed admirably at the carvings' intricacies. Many special treats filled the tables in honor of the holiday, and the students dug in eagerly.

Partway through the feast, Dumbledore stood up to speak.

"May I have your attention, please!" he called. "A very happy Halloween to you all! I am pleased to announce that we are celebrating not one, but two special events tonight. I'm sure many of you have gotten to know a ghost or two in your time here, and this particular holiday is unique because it marks the five hundredth deathday of one of our own. Please join me in honoring Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington!" The students cheered, the Gryffindors especially loudly for their their resident ghost, and Sir Nicholas, known better to the school as 'Nearly-Headless Nick', rose from his spot at the Gryffindor table and acknowledged the crowd.

"My dear friends," he said somberly. "It is truly an honor to celebrate this deathday with you, truly an honor indeed." He bowed deeply, his thick ruff barely keeping his head in place as he did so.

In honor of the occasion, the Hogwarts ghosts provided the entertainment, doing a bit of formation gliding and aerial tricks before Nick performed a thrilling reenactment of his own botched beheading. A group of visiting ghosts called the Headless Hunt amused them all with a rousing game of head polo, and the Wailing Widow, a friend of Nick's who'd come all the way from Kent for the occasion, sang a truly haunting song about love and loss. Her voice mesmerized everyone in the room, and many were in tears by the time she finished.

"That was incredible," Hermione said, still wiping away a few stray tears. "It's not every day we get to see something like that!"

"I agree," Harry said. "Definitely worth it." He checked his watch. "We still have some time before curfew – shall we head back up to the room? I know Draco wanted to finish our chess game." Hermione agreed, and the two waved across the room to catch Draco's attention. The blonde boy joined them as they exited the Great Hall.

"Quite a show, huh?" he said. "The ghosts really outdid themselves."

"They sure did – that bouncing trick the Fat Friar did was great. Wanna go finish that chess game?"

"Only if you're prepared to lose," Draco smirked.

"I don't think so!"

They kept up the banter all the way up the grand staircase and were making their way down the corridor to one of their preferred shortcuts when they found the way blocked by a sizeable crowd.

"What's going on?" Hermione wondered, standing up on her toes in an attempt to see over people's heads.

"Dunno." Draco craned his neck as well, but as he still wasn't much taller than Hermione, the action didn't help much. "It looks like there's something written on the wall?"

"Somebody get Professor Dumbledore!" a voice barked suddenly. It sounded like Percy Weasley.

Minutes later, Dumbledore came striding up the corridor, the anxious students parting to let him through. As he passed, Harry, Draco, and Hermione caught a glimpse of what was causing the hold-up. Foot-high letters of blood red glistened on the wall, spelling out a curious message: _The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the Heir, beware. _A shadowy object hung from one of the torches above the message, and the trio recoiled when they realized that the object was actually Mrs. Norris, Filch's cat.

"What's wrong with her?" Hermione whispered, fighting the urge to be sick. "She looks so stiff…" She realized Dumbledore was speaking and quickly quieted herself.

"She has been Petrified, Argus," the headmaster said. "I will speak with Madam Pomfrey to see what we can do for her."

"I want to see some justice, some punishment!" Filch replied angrily. He sounded close to tears, and as much as the trio didn't like the grumpy old caretaker, they couldn't help but feel a little sorry for him – he looked so lost.

"I will do my best, Argus, I promise," Dumbledore soothed. "I'm afraid that is all I can say for now." He raised his voice to project to the crowd. "Students, please return to your common rooms at once – I'd prefer no one linger in the corridors tonight." They hastened to do as they were told, Harry and Hermione promising to contact Draco as soon as they could.

Hermione's parchment heated the minute they were back in Gryffindor Tower:

_So what do you think did it?_

_I don't know,_ she wrote back. _It's kind of scary, isn't it?_

_No kidding. What can do something like that?_

_No idea. I'm going to try looking up the Chamber of Secrets – I feel like I've heard of it before._

_Good idea. Let me know what you find?_

_Of course._

_Alright. Night, Lotte – stay safe._

_You too, Dragon. Goodnight._

Harry sighed as Hermione put her parchment away.

"What's wrong?" she asked, glancing sideways at her friend. He gave a small laugh.

"Nothing, really," he said. "I guess Halloween's just not my holiday, is it?"

* * *

**A/N: Two chapters in one day, woohoo! Getting into the fun stuff. **

**Thanks for the follows/faves/reviews! You guys are the best.**

**JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R&R, & enjoy! :)**


	5. A Founder's Secret and Bludger Problems

Word spread quickly about the strange events following the Halloween feast, and it wasn't long before the Chamber of Secrets was the hot topic of discussion amongst the students. The most frustrating aspect of the whole thing was how little anyone knew about it – Professor Binns severely scolded a class of fourth-years who dared ask about 'legends and other such nonsense' in History of Magic, and it quickly became apparent that the rest of the staff who weren't of the same mind as Binns didn't have anything to share in the first place. Consequently, most of the stories being passed around were nothing more than speculation or rumors.

"We know absolutely _nothing," _Draco said exasperatedly, flopping down on the sofa to emphasize his point. "How are we supposed to figure out what's going on when none of us has ever even heard of this chamber before?"

"We don't know what the whole 'enemies of the Heir' thing means either," Harry reminded him. "It's not a very helpful phrase when we don't know whose heir the message means."

"Patience," Hermione chided them gently, the tip of her quill just skimming her parchment as she revised her Charms homework. "I wrote Mum and Dad the day after Halloween and asked them to send me my copy of _Hogwarts, A History._ With any luck, it'll be here soon, and maybe it'll have some answers."

Just as predicted, a large package arrived for Hermione the next morning, and it took all of her restraint not to tear into it right in the middle of breakfast. She knew that if she started reading the book now, she'd never be able to tear herself away in time to go to class – the allure of the mystery was just too great – so she stowed the book carefully in her bag until the group met that night. As soon as she could, Hermione rushed to the Room of Requirement and started perusing her favorite tome, knowing everyone else would join her when dinner and Quidditch practices were over.

Searching the book was a daunting task, as the massive volume was organized chronologically and didn't provide much of an index, but a chapter about the founders looked promising, so Hermione started there. Truth be told, she wasn't even sure the chamber had anything to do with Hogwarts at all, but if by some chance it did, there was a good chance she'd find a reference to it here. After fifteen minutes or so, her eyes paused at a promising heading: _The Founders' Secrets. _Brushing a stray lock of hair away from her face, Hermione pulled the book closer and began to read:

_In spite of the tandem efforts involved in the majority of Hogwarts' construction, each of the founders wished to leave their own unique mark on the school for future generations of students to study and admire. Many of these personal touches are well known – the moving staircases, for instance, are the brainchild of Rowena Ravenclaw, and the Hufflepuff common room is the only one of the four to have a defense mechanism against intruders – but a few additions remained hidden from the outside world. Arguably the most famous of these is Salazar Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets, a chasm far beneath the school of which his fellow founders knew nothing. Although the entrance has never been found and its mere existence is thought by most to be little more than a myth, the legend perseveres that the Chamber of Secrets is home to a creature that only Slytherin's own heir can control, a beast that will ensure Hogwarts remains up to Slytherin's standards by ridding the school of all those he deemed unfit to study magic. For more on Salazar Slytherin, please see chapter seven._

Hermione let out a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding as she finished the paragraph. Although the passage contained a mere two sentences on the Chamber of Secrets, those two sentences held quite a lot of unspoken information, and the extra knowledge wasn't pleasant.

It wasn't long before the rest of her friends joined her, and she took a deep breath to organize her thoughts.

"Well," she said, the huge book still open to the eye-opening passage, "we know now who created the chamber – Salazar Slytherin." Blaise groaned.

"Why is it always something to do with the Slytherins?" he muttered. "What got old Salazar's wand in a knot so badly that everybody still hates us a thousand years later?"

"We don't hate you," Hermione reminded him gently. "Granted, we're probably the first mixed group of Gryffindor-Slytherin friends since…"

"Ever?" Harry supplied.

"Probably," Hermione admitted with a grimace, "but that doesn't mean everyone else since the school opened has hated Slytherins. Slytherin has produced more than its fair share of remarkable wizards, Merlin himself being one of them. It's only because of the prejudices that the rift exists in the first place."

"What prejudices?" Tracey asked, sounding genuinely curious.

"Well…the blood prejudices," Hermione said. "Slytherin's hand-picked students possessed a wealth of notable qualities – resourcefulness, determination, and the like – but he was also very outspoken in terms of the blood status of the school's students. He strongly felt that only those from Wizarding families – only purebloods – should be admitted. Muggle-borns, he said, weren't born into the Wizarding world and therefore shouldn't be a part of it."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say he and Voldemort were the same person," Draco said with a slight snort, missing the way several of the room's occupants flinched at his use of Voldemort's name.

"The idea is similar," Hermione conceded, "but quite different all the same. Slytherin's prejudices were, in a way, excusable – during his time, true witches and wizards had to be very careful what they did for fear of being persecuted. It wasn't nearly as bad as the mass witch burnings in the Middle Ages or those a bit later on in America, but there were still people who would condemn a wizard to death without question. In that regard, I can understand his hesitation. Slytherin didn't want Muggle-borns eradicated, though – he was perfectly content for them to stay in the Muggle world, which certainly can't be said for Voldemort."

"Why, though?" Ron asked after a moment. "Why were Muggles so afraid of magic?"

"It was an unknown." Hermione shrugged. "I wouldn't expect you to understand, seeing as you grew up in a Wizarding household and therefore see magic as the norm, but let me tell you that it was quite a shock when I was first learning all about it. My mum and dad were star struck for days but accepted it eventually, and now they see magic all the time when they're at Lily and Padfoot's. Dumbledore told us, though, that we were an easy case when it came to our acceptance – he's had loads of Muggle-born parents who were a lot harder to convince."

"So the heir mentioned in the message is an heir of Salazar Slytherin, and he or she has the ability to control some sort of crazy creature that can get rid of all the Muggle-borns in Hogwarts?" Neville said. "Really comforting, that thought…"

"Not really," Draco said. "I mean, I can't expect the rest of the school will look favorably on the Slytherins when they find out who caused this mess."

"I wonder who it is," Harry mused. "That'd be a pretty difficult thing to trace, wouldn't it? I mean, the founders lived so long ago that there are bound to be dozens, if not hundreds of branches off their family trees, especially if they or any of their descendants had multiple children."

"Unless somebody suddenly starts wearing a giant sign that says, 'I'm the Heir of Slytherin!' I think it'll be a little difficult to figure that one out," Blaise said with a chuckle. "I say we keep our eyes and ears open for anything that seems weird, and in the meantime let's just hope that this is somebody's idea of a joke."

* * *

Professor Binns finally had enough of the nagging and told his persistent fourth-years much the same information Hermione had found in _Hogwarts, A History_, and it took less than a day for the news to spread throughout the school. As Draco predicted, the other three houses shunned the Slytherins even more so than usual – never around the teachers, but enough that it was definitely noticeable, and by the morning of the Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch match, tensions were at an all-time high. That morning at breakfast, six different people ended up in the hospital wing as the result of a duel between a Gryffindor fifth-year and a Slytherin sixth-year, and Harry had never seen his Head of House so angry as she shouted at the involved students. He managed to stomach two pieces of toast and some pumpkin juice before giving up and heading to the locker rooms.

"Alright, team," Oliver Wood said as his players got changed, "we all know this match isn't going to be pretty, what with all this Chamber of Secrets stuff going on. Honestly, I think the sooner the match is over, the better, so let's go out there and get this done."

The teams walked onto the pitch amidst roars of applause. The majority of the spectators wore scarlet and gold in support of Gryffindor, but the Slytherins made themselves known in a solid block of green and silver at one end of the pitch, cheering just as loudly as anyone else. Madam Hooch gave the signal to mount their brooms, and as Wood and Flint shook hands, Harry glanced over at Draco just in time to see his brother's playful salute. He grinned back and kicked off hard when the whistle blew, the wind whipping through his hair as he quickly rose above the rest of the players.

Wood wasn't kidding – the match wasn't pretty. There were half a dozen blatant fouls on both sides, and the Beaters went after the Bludgers for all they were worth. Wood's superb goalkeeping kept the score in Gryffindor's favor, but only just – Harry had to admit that Slytherin's newest Chaser trio was excellent. Draco managed to score just under half an hour into the game, and Harry flashed him a double thumbs-up when they caught each other's eye – forget the house rivalries or the game, his brother had just scored his first goal.

Harry spent most of the match tracing his customary loop high above the field, being careful to listen to Lee's commentary as he searched. He knew Slytherin hadn't scored enough goals to win regardless of who caught the Snitch, but it never hurt to keep an eye on things. A stray Bludger came his way, followed closely by Fred Weasley, who called, "All right, Harry?" before fiercely whacking the offending ball back the way it had come.

"Fred, watch it!" Harry said sharply. Instead of continuing on its downward path, the Bludger screeched to a halt and abruptly changed directions to head right back up towards him, and Fred only just managed to get out of the way in time. Confused, Harry immediately took off, the Bludger in hot pursuit.

"Can't I just play a normal Quidditch match for once?" he grumbled as he weaved his way through four Chasers, two Beaters, and the other Bludger. George tried to hit the rogue Bludger away but had just as little success as his twin, and Harry was left to try to outsmart the black ball.

"Leave me alone!" Harry shouted to the twins as they tried to trap the Bludger between them. "Obviously something's wrong with it, so just leave it go and deal with the other one – it's too hard to look for the Snitch like this!" Fred and George looked reluctant but nodded, disappearing back into the action and leaving Harry alone once more.

"Come on…come on…where is it?" he muttered to himself.

"What on earth is Harry doing?" Ginny asked from her spot next to Hermione. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say that Bludger's been tampered with."

"I have to agree with you, Gin," Hermione said, her eyes never leaving the streak that was her best friend. She'd celebrated Draco's goal with great enthusiasm, but as soon as Harry was in trouble, she found she couldn't look away from him. One of her boys was in trouble, and she didn't like it one bit.

"The Snitch – I see the Snitch!" Ginny whispered suddenly. Harry had obviously seen it too, and he raced after the little golden ball as fast as his Nimbus would allow. Five feet from the ground, he hesitated for a split second, not entirely sure where the Snitch had gone, and that pause was all it took for the Bludger to finally hit him. The ball collided with his elbow with a sickening _crack,_ and Harry had to do his best not to let go with his good arm. Ginny hissed as if she too felt Harry's pain, and Hermione bit her lip so hard she tasted blood. The Bludger, however, wasn't finished, and it rocketed back towards Harry once more, determined to incapacitate him even further. Harry ducked, swore under his breath, and reached out, finally managing to grab the Snitch with his good hand. As soon as he heard the final whistle, he tumbled off his broomstick onto the ground while Fred, George, and Madam Hooch struggled to contain the rogue Bludger.

"Harry – dear God, Harry, are you alright?" Hermione and Ginny had rushed to their friend's side as soon as they could, followed closely by Draco and two people none of them had expected.

"Mum?" Harry mumbled, still seeing stars from the Bludger hit. "Padfoot? What are you doing here?"

"Hey, kid," Sirius said. "We came to see you play – it's not every day both of our boys are playing in a Hogwarts Quidditch match together." He ruffled Draco's hair affectionately before bending down to his godson. "We should get you to the hospital wing." He scooped Harry up off the grass, careful to mind his injured arm.

"Goodness gracious!" said a voice from behind them. "Allow me!" The little group turned to find Gilderoy Lockhart strolling quickly towards them.

"Not to be rude, but who are you?" Sirius asked.

"You don't know? Well then. Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five-time winner of _Witch Weekly's_ Most-Charming-Smile Award!" Lockhart flashed a cheeky grin and held out his hand. Sirius raised his eyebrows, and Ginny and Hermione exchanged exasperated looks.

"He's our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher," Hermione supplied under her breath.

"Ah," Sirius replied. "Interesting." He turned back to Lockhart. "If you'll excuse me, Harry rather needs the hospital wing…"

"Nonsense!" Lockhart insisted. "I saw what happened, and as I'm rather skilled with healing spells, I can have him fixed up in no time!"

"He really should go upstairs, Professor," Ginny said. "A break's not something to mess around with."

"Miss Weasley, I reckon I know just a _touch_ more about these things than you do," Lockhart said, dismissing her comment with a wave of his hand.

"Are you seriously impeding us from taking our son to the hospital wing?" Lily demanded.

"Well, if he really doesn't need to go-"

"Of course he does! His arm's broken, for Merlin's sake!" Lily snapped. Harry groaned.

"Can we just go?" he muttered. "It hurts…"

"Of course, love. Thank you for your time, Professor, but we'll be on our way now."

Lockhart wasn't going to let it go, however. He waved his wand and a jet of light shot towards them, which missed Harry and hit Sirius instead. Sirius' arm collapsed and he dropped Harry, who howled with pain as his injured arm made contact with the ground.

"Professor, what did you do?" Hermione shrieked just as Sirius yelled, "Bloody hell!"

"I…well, these things can happen," Lockhart said, suddenly looking sheepish. "Just, erm, head up to the hospital wing then, and I'm sure Madam Pomfrey can sort you out!"

Sirius looked livid, and it was only because his right arm was basically useless that he didn't pounce on Lockhart right then and there. Lily and Ginny helped him to his feet while Hermione and Draco saw to Harry, and the group made its way across the grounds towards the castle.

* * *

**A/N: Hello again! Merci beaucoup to all of you who followed/favorited/reviewed since last time - I appreciate them all!**

**Lockhart's causing trouble again - oh dear. JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R&R, & enjoy! :)**


	6. An Unsettling Discovery

Almost everyone had a few choice words to say about Lockhart's actions as they walked up the main staircase, Harry and Sirius' thoughts the most prominent. Lily lightly scolded her son for badmouthing a teacher, but she was just as mad as the rest of them.

"It's a good thing Lockhart finally shut up and left us alone," Hermione hissed, her tone uncharacteristically venomous. "If he'd followed us up here, I can guarantee he'd need a hospital bed as badly as these two." No one doubted the truth of her words – Draco and Ginny were equally as furious as Hermione, and Lily's hand kept moving towards her wand as if she longed to hex the useless professor until he was unrecognizable. It really was for his own good that Lockhart hadn't followed them.

"Goodness, what happened here?" Madam Pomfrey asked, bustling up to the group as they entered the ward.

"Lockhart happened," Ginny muttered to Hermione under her breath. In spite of the situation, Hermione couldn't help the slight giggle that escaped.

"Harry got hit with a Bludger at the end of the Quidditch match," Lily explained. "It was behaving strangely, almost as if it had been charmed to only chase after him. As for Sirius…well, I'm not entirely sure what happened, to be honest."

"I can't move my arm, that's what happened," Sirius growled. "That professor insisted he could fix Harry's injury and hit me instead, and now I can't feel my arm."

"What professor?" Madam Pomfrey asked.

"Professor Lockhart," Draco said. "He was adamant that Harry didn't need to come up here and wouldn't take 'no' for an answer."

"I see." Madam Pomfrey pursed her lips, looking as though she'd very much like to say exactly what she thought of Gilderoy Lockhart. "Take a seat, both of you."

Harry's case was easy – after a quick diagnostic spell, Madam Pomfrey declared his elbow broken in three places. She mended the bones almost instantly before setting his arm in a sling and giving him a foul-tasting painkiller, and she said he should rest for a bit but would be free to go later that afternoon. Sirius, however, was an entirely different story – whatever spell Lockhart had used had removed all of the bones in Sirius' right arm, and the remedy wasn't nearly so simple as recalling the vanished insides. Padfoot would have no choice but to stay the night in the ward while the bones re-grew with the aid of Skele-Gro, which tasted even worse than Harry's painkiller.

"Does it hurt much?" Draco asked as Harry and Sirius made themselves comfortable.

"Not really," Harry said. "A little, I guess, but that healing spell was great – I reckon by this evening it'll be like nothing happened at all."

"Speak for yourself, kid," Sirius said with a chuckle. "I'm short an entire arm's worth of bones, thank you very much."

"Are you really all that surprised, Padfoot?" Lily asked. "Don't you remember Lockhart from Hogwarts?"

"You went to school with him?" Harry said, looking shocked.

"He wasn't in our year, thank Merlin – he was a first-year when we were in fifth – but he certainly made his presence known."

"Oh, I remember now!" Sirius said suddenly. "He was always trying to draw attention to himself, wasn't he? Nobody liked him very much – even his fellow Ravenclaws thought he was too stuck-up and narcissistic for his own good."

"Lockhart was a _Ravenclaw?"_ Draco asked incredulously. "How on earth did that happen? That's almost an insult to Ravenclaw herself, I'd say."

"Not disagreeing with you there," Sirius snorted. "The Sorting Hat's rarely wrong though, so he must be good at _something."_

"Good at drawing attention to himself, at any rate," Lily said with a small smile. "Listen, I'm going to go speak to the headmaster – I'll stay in one of the guest rooms overnight, and I want to know what in Godric's name he was thinking letting Lockhart teach here. Dumbledore always has his reasons, but even I can't fathom what they might be in this case." She gave each of the children a hug and patted Sirius' good arm before she left the ward.

Madam Pomfrey rejoined the group a few minutes later.

"You're good to go, Mr. Potter," she said after she'd examined Harry again. "Take it easy for the rest of the day, and stop in after dinner for your second dose of painkillers."

"Thanks, Madam Pomfrey," Harry said. "I really appreciate it." He, Hermione, Draco, and Ginny stood to leave. "You going to be alright, Padfoot? I feel bad leaving you here."

"Don't worry about it," Sirius said, waving them off with his good hand. "Your mum will be back soon, and she can tell me everything that's going on." One last bout of reassurance and well wishes later, the children left the hospital wing.

"I can't help but think that there's something off about Lockhart," Hermione commented as they walked.

"What do you mean?" Draco asked.

"Doesn't it strike you as odd that someone who's supposedly done all these amazing things routinely mixes up spells and spouts blatantly incorrect information, even in front of the other teachers? Remember back in September when he tried to tell us we were studying a weeping willow in Herbology?"

"Seriously?" Ginny sniggered. "I don't remember you telling us that one, Hermione…"

"Maybe I did, maybe I didn't, but the point is, he didn't even seem to know he'd made such an error," Hermione pointed out. "Something's not right here, and I intend to find out what it is."

Later that evening, after much squabbling over a particularly nasty Potions essay and a hasty dinner, the quartet returned to the hospital wing.

"How are you feeling, Padfoot?" Draco asked as he and his friends perched on nearby beds.

"To be honest, it hurts like hell," Sirius said bluntly. "I don't recommend losing bones, getting them back isn't much fun." The children expressed their sympathies, and Ginny commented again on Lockhart's ineptitude.

"Speaking of Lockhart, what did my mum say when she came back?" Harry asked.

"Not much," Sirius admitted. "Dumbledore's actually been meeting with the Minister all day – that's why he wasn't at the Quidditch match – so she hasn't been able to speak with him. Professor McGonagall gave her access to one of the guest rooms, but that's as far as she got. I guess she was able to talk to a few of the other teachers who saw what happened after the game, and she got the impression that they aren't all that fond of Lockhart either."

"Can you blame them, though?" Hermione asked. "He's always trying to one-up them in their own subjects – I don't think I'd be too inclined towards anyone who did that, especially when many of them once had student-teacher relationships with him as well."

"You don't have to convince us, Lotte," Draco reminded her. He could tell that Hermione was still incredibly high-strung from the day's events, and he reached over to squeeze her shoulder gently. "None of us are singing Lockhart's praises, remember?"

"I know," she said softly. "It's just frustrating that he's so incompetent."

"As much fun as this little conversation is, you lot should be heading back to your common rooms soon," Sirius said. "Wouldn't want to be caught out after curfew. I'll see you in the morning – maybe I'll even join you for breakfast if Madam Pomfrey lets me." The children laughed at the thought of Sirius in the Great Hall and bid him goodnight.

"Somebody should warn the house-elves that Padfoot's here," Draco said as they made their way to the nearest staircase. "If he's going to be at breakfast tomorrow…he could give your brother a run for his money in the eating department, Ginny, and that's saying something!"

"Tell me about it," Ginny laughed. "Ron could eat more than the twins and I combined and still have room for more."

They reached the stairs and were about to part ways when Harry noticed something huddled on the floor a few doors down.

"What's that?" he asked, sounding a little apprehensive. After the day he'd had, all he really wanted to do was go to bed, and the strange shape on the floor was far from ordinary.

"Dunno," Draco replied. "Should we…" He never got to finish his question, however, as the torchlight flickered just then, revealing the identity of the unknown object. Hermione let out a soft scream and grabbed the wall for support as a student's body was thrown into harsh relief.

"What the…" Ginny muttered, daring to take a step closer. The other three followed and found themselves gazing down on a small, mousy-haired boy who Harry and Hermione vaguely recognized but couldn't name.

"Colin Creevey," Ginny said. "He's in my year…but what's he doing here? And what's wrong with him?" Colin's wide eyes were unseeing and strangely glass-like, and his face was twisted in an expression of horrified confusion. His hands were clutched tightly around a camera, which the others knew he carried with him almost obsessively.

"I think…" Hermione paused, swallowed loudly, and tried again, "I think he's been Petrified."

"What?" Harry gasped. "You're not serious, are you?"

"Very," Hermione assured him. "You remember how stiff Mrs. Norris was, and she looked similarly frightened."

"Do you think we should move him?" Draco asked, glancing around nervously. The sight of the frozen first-year was more than a little creepy, and the shadows dancing on the corridor's stone walls were doing nothing to ease the tension.

"Let's get him to the hospital wing, since it's only just down the corridor," Harry suggested. "Then we need to find a teacher immediately, the headmaster if we can. I'd say we should do that first, but Colin needs to be moved, and even though he's pretty small I think it'll take all of us to lift him." The others agreed and hastily bent down to pick up Colin, who was rigid as a board and felt as though he were carved from stone. It took them a surprisingly short time to get him to the hospital wing, and Ginny rushed to get Madam Pomfrey while Draco and Harry left the ward in search of a teacher.

"What happened?" Sirius demanded. Hermione shook her head, unable to speak. She wrung her hands and bit her lip repeatedly until Ginny returned with Madam Pomfrey, and the shaken girls did their best to explain the situation. Shortly thereafter, the door to the ward burst open, admitting Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall, followed closely by Harry and Draco. Dumbledore strode to Colin's bedside and immediately began examining him, conversing with Madam Pomfrey in low tones.

"Explain to me what happened, please," Professor McGonagall requested once she'd gotten over the shock of the scene. The children obliged, telling her that they'd been visiting Padfoot in the hospital wing and were heading back to their common rooms for the night when they'd found Colin.

"Are any of you hurt?" she asked when they'd finished. They assured her they weren't, but the older witch could see that the children were visibly shaken, and she recommended they stay together in the hospital wing for the night, to which Madam Pomfrey readily agreed before giving them each a Calming Draught and some pajamas. The friends changed quickly and crawled under the covers, and Professor McGonagall's expression softened slightly as she turned to them one last time.

"Five points to each of you for helping Mr. Creevey," she said. "You all did the right thing – thank you. Mr. Black, I'll make sure that Professor Snape hears of this. Now, take those draughts and get some rest." She exchanged a few brief words with Dumbledore before bidding them all goodnight and leaving the ward.

"Professor?" Hermione whispered once her Head of House was gone. "Professor, what do you think is doing this?" Dumbledore sighed – if there was one student who would see right through any attempt to water down a story, it was Hermione Granger.

"I don't know, Miss Granger," he admitted. "I really don't know. We can only hope that we can catch the culprit before this gets any worse."

* * *

**A/N: Thank you so much for the follows/faves/reviews! You guys are the best, as always.**

**JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R&R, & enjoy! :)**


	7. Spiders and Speculations

It took Hermione a moment to figure out where she was when she woke up the following morning, but as soon as she realized she was in the hospital wing she groaned softly. The Calming Draught had helped her sleep, but it hadn't erased her memories of the previous night, and the image of Colin Creevey's frozen body flashed in her mind as if burned there. She shuddered, drawing the blanket a little closer to herself as she sat up just enough to see the rest of the ward's residents. Harry, Sirius, and Draco were all still asleep, Sirius' soft snores the only sound in the otherwise silent room. Ginny, however, was awake, her brown eyes fixed firmly on Hermione.

"Hey," she said softly. "How'd you sleep?" Hermione shrugged and snuggled back down into her pillow.

"Alright, I guess," she whispered back. "Waking up in here reminded me that last night actually happened though – I was kind of hoping it was just a really bad dream."

"I know what you mean," Ginny said. "It's creepy…and kind of sad, to be honest. Poor Colin, he's just a first-year – what did he do to deserve this?"

"Nothing. He did nothing."

"Do you think…do you think we can figure this one out?" Ginny asked hesitantly after a lengthy pause. "I mean…Mrs. Norris, then Colin – who's to say that's where this ends?"

"I have a feeling the heir is far from finished," Hermione said solemnly. She quickly filled the younger witch in on everything she and the boys had found in _Hogwarts, A History._ "Colin's definitely not the only Muggle-born in Hogwarts, and the book makes Slytherin's intentions quite clear – no, I don't think this is over at all, Gin."

"But how can we stop the heir when we have no clue what this supposed monster is?" Ginny pressed.

"That's the thing – we don't have enough information to go any further," Hermione admitted. "The selection of books about magical creatures in the library is huge – we can't really do any research on this monster without some sort of further clue."

"Fair point." Ginny paused as she seemed to consider something. "What if we took a look at the places the attacks happened? Maybe there's something there we missed before, something we didn't see because we were too distracted by what was going on at the time."

"Good idea. Let's wait until Padfoot leaves – I don't know how much, if anything, he knows about all of this, and we need to be able to have a look around without him asking too many awkward questions."

A creak of bedsprings from Hermione's left told them that at least one of the boys was awake, and a second later, Draco spoke.

"Hey – you girls awake?"

"Yeah, we are," Ginny replied. The girls turned to face Draco as he propped himself up on his elbows and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "How'd you sleep?"

"I've had better nights," came the reply. "I think both my bed in the dungeons and my bed at home are more comfortable."

"Well, they do try and discourage you from needing any reason to stay here long-term," Hermione said with a slight smile. "I agree though, they aren't the most comfortable beds in the world."

"Been up long?" Draco asked.

"No, no, not at all. We've just been thinking – it might be a good idea to go back to where the attacks happened to see if we can find anything in common between the two places."

"Ah – yeah, that's definitely worth trying."

Fifteen minutes later, Harry and Sirius were awake, and Madam Pomfrey had declared Sirius' arm 'as good as new'. As promised, he joined them on their walk to the Great Hall for breakfast, and he immediately loaded his plate with everything within reach once they'd settled themselves at the Gryffindor table. As it was a Sunday and the hall was almost empty, Draco abandoned his usual seat at the Slytherin table to sit with his adopted family, and the little group enjoyed an excellent breakfast filled with good food and entertaining conversation. Most of the discussion centered around Sirius' desire to get back at Lockhart for the bone-vanishing incident, and his wild ideas soon had the children howling with laughter.

"If you do decide to go through with this, don't tell us which idea you're going with," Hermione said once she was able to speak clearly again – her latest fit of giggles had led to a violent case of the hiccups that had stolen her attention for several minutes. "I'd rather be surprised like everyone else."

"Wait – are you actually considering doing something?" Ginny asked. She still didn't know Sirius all that well, and most adults she did know didn't condone pranking, especially not when it involved teachers.

"Oh, don't you worry, Ginny," Draco assured her, "Padfoot's just an older version of Fred and George." At Draco's declaration, Ginny's confused frown morphed into a smirk, and she couldn't suppress a giggle. If what Draco said was true, this could prove very interesting indeed.

After breakfast, the children said goodbye to Lily and Padfoot and made their way back up the marble staircase. The corridor where Mrs. Norris had been found was closer, so they went there first. The eerie message still shone brightly against the stone, nothing Filch had in his stores seemingly enough to remove it, but the rest of the scene proved disappointing. At first glance, nothing else seemed out of place.

"Wasn't there water all over the floor that night?" Harry asked as they scanned the area surrounding the fateful message.

"Yeah, but I wouldn't put any stock in it," Hermione said. "This is Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, and she floods it on an almost weekly basis."

"Who's Moaning Myrtle?" Draco asked.

"She's the resident ghost of this particular bathroom," Hermione replied, gesturing to the 'out of order' sign hung haphazardly on the door. "It's not really out of order, but Myrtle gets upset really easily, and when she does…"

"She floods the bathroom," Ginny finished. "One of my year mates was in there when she did that – she said she was lucky that her older sister knew a drying charm, otherwise her books would've all been ruined. The water was more than two feet deep in there before anyone managed to get in to turn the taps off."

"Why's she so temperamental?" Harry wondered.

"No idea," Hermione said with a shrug. "It's hard to tell, because even a badly worded question can set her off. No one really knows all that much about Myrtle, and she's not exactly keen on sharing."

"Hey, what's this?" Ginny's sudden question tore their thoughts away from Moaning Myrtle, and they followed her pointing hand to a line of spiders crawling up the wall away from the heir's message.

"They almost look…scared," Draco noticed. The spiders did indeed seem to be afraid – they appeared to be racing towards a small crack in the wall as if each was determined to get there first.

"I don't know if the spiders are connected to the message or not, but it's the only thing we've found so far," Hermione said. "Good work, Gin – how'd you find them, anyway? They're awfully small…"

"Ron's terrified of spiders," Ginny replied. "It's kind of hard not to notice any that are around when you grew up with somebody like that."

"Ok, so we've got the spiders, and maybe the water," Draco said. "Shall we go see if we can find anything in the other corridor?" They all exchanged looks, more than slightly apprehensive about returning to the spot where they'd found Colin, but the friends nodded in agreement and made their way towards the hospital wing. A glance inside the ward showed them the thick curtains around Colin's bed that they hadn't noticed earlier – Hogwarts being Hogwarts, word was bound to spread quickly about the first-year's condition, and Madam Pomfrey was no doubt trying to afford the unfortunate boy some privacy, even if he wasn't awake to appreciate the gesture. The whole thing made them sad – Colin's tendency to talk too much could get annoying, but he really was quite sweet.

The second scene was even more lacking than the first. There were only a few classrooms in this particular wing, and none of them were in use this term, and there were no threatening messages to mark the spot. Ginny's revelation about the spiders had them scanning the floors and walls, and it wasn't long before Draco spotted a long line of the tiny arachnids scurrying across the floor.

"Spiders at both locations?" Hermione asked, her eyebrows raised. "That can't be a coincidence."

"What are spiders afraid of?" Harry asked thoughtfully, his eyes trained on the fleeing critters.

"What do you mean?" Draco asked, glancing quizzically at his brother.

"You said yourself that the other spiders looked like they were running away because they were scared," Harry replied with a shrug. "Maybe Slytherin's monster is something that scares spiders."

"It's not much to go on, but it's better than nothing," Hermione conceded. "I don't think there's anything else here, though, so I'm going upstairs for a shower, and then I'm going to the library. Feel free to join me – I should be there in half an hour or so."

* * *

That afternoon, Harry, Hermione, Draco, and Ginny sat around a table in a secluded part of the library, large stacks of heavy books obscuring their views of one another as they searched. Having nothing else to go on besides their spider theory, the books they chose spanned a wide variety of topics, and leafing through the massive tomes was tedious work.

"If I have to skip over one more recipe involving spider legs, I'm going to scream," Ginny said after a while, pausing to massage the bridge of her nose.

"Don't," Harry advised her. "Madam Pince has already shot us enough dirty looks for daring to touch her precious books." He was right – Madam Pince, the irritable librarian, had been all but breathing down their necks for the past two hours, and if any of them put so much as a toe out of line, they had no doubt she'd kick them out of the library without question.

"Maybe we need to focus on something else," Hermione suggested, shutting the dusty book she'd been reading and suppressing a sneeze.

"But we don't have anything else to go on," Draco reminded her. "The spiders were the only thing we found."

"I know – but what if we tried to approach this from a different angle? Instead of trying to figure out what the monster is, what if we tried to figure out who the _heir_ is – or at least, until we have more clues about the monster?" Hermione said.

"That's not a bad idea," Harry admitted, "except where would we start? We don't even know if the heir is a student."

"There's a lot of talk about it, though," Draco pointed out. "Don't tell me the Gryffindors don't have their theories."

"Of course they do. Most of them are convinced it's a Slytherin or someone related to a Slytherin."

"That might not be a bad place to start." If Harry hadn't seen his brother's mouth move, he would've never believed Draco would suggest such a thing.

"But-"

"Look, I know I'm talking about my own house here," Draco interrupted, "but we've got to start somewhere. A lot of the Slytherins think the heir has the right idea, following Slytherin's supposed wishes and all that, and I think if we asked the right questions, one of them might slip and say something useful."

"How are we going to ask those questions?" Harry asked. "In case you've forgotten, you're the only Slytherin here, and you're not exactly your housemates' best friend."

"No…but if Draco plays nice with some of them for a little bit, I've got an idea that could work," Hermione said slowly, her expression thoughtful as she traced a scratch in the tabletop with her fingers.

"What's your idea, Lotte?" Hermione looked up at them and smirked.

"Have you ever heard of Polyjuice Potion?"

* * *

**A/N: Thank you so much for the follows/faves/reviews!**

**Just a quick heads-up - school's out (FINALLY) & I've started my day camp schedule, which, ironically enough, actually leaves me with _less _free time than during the school year. Go figure. I'm still going to do my best to give you at least one chapter a week, however, so never fear! Writing this is far too much fun to go much longer than that between updates.**

**JKR owns all things Potter, comme d'habitude - I just play. Please R&R, & enjoy! :)**


	8. The Dueling Club

"You're either completely brilliant or completely insane," Draco said, a hint of admiration lacing his tone. Hermione's smirk stretched into a satisfied smile.

"What's Polyjuice Potion?" Ginny asked.

"Shush," Harry cautioned her, having noticed that Madam Pince was nearby. "Maybe we should go up to the room. This probably isn't something we should be talking about in the open." The others readily agreed with the suggestion and gathered their things before heading off to the seventh floor. When they were safely within the room's confines and had sunk into their favorite armchairs, Ginny repeated her question.

"What's Polyjuice Potion?"

"It allows the drinker to temporarily become someone else," Hermione answered. "I'm thinking we could use it to turn into a couple of Slytherins and help Draco interrogate them."

"It's a great idea, but there's just one problem – how do we make sure the people we're impersonating don't walk in on us?" Harry asked. "We'd be exposed immediately."

"Easy – just be careful about who we choose," Draco said. "It's people like Nott we need to talk to – he's bound to know something, the way he carries on about blood supremacy. In that case, Crabbe and Goyle would be perfect targets – he's with them a lot, and they're dumb enough that it wouldn't be too hard for us to get them out of the way for a bit."

"I'll bet we could brew it in here," Hermione added. "I'm sure if we ask the room for precisely what we need, we can make it work. As for the recipe, it's in a book called _Moste Potente Potions,_ which is bound to be in the Restricted Section – we'll need a teacher's note to check it out."  
"Ask Lockhart," Ginny suggested immediately. "He'll sign anything if it sits still long enough, and he probably won't ask why you want the book, either."

"Perfect. I'll ask him tomorrow after class – the sooner we can talk to the Slytherins, the better."

* * *

Getting Lockhart's signature proved just as easy as Ginny had predicted – in fact, he insisted on signing one of Hermione's textbooks as well.

"Hogwarts' star student needs proof of who she learned everything from, doesn't she?" he gushed as he scrawled an exaggeratedly loopy autograph in aquamarine ink. Hermione wanted nothing more than to prove him wrong with a few gems she'd learned on her own, but their success depended on Lockhart's compliance, so she schooled her features into as flattering an expression as she could manage and said, "Of course, Professor!" in her most admiring tone. Lockhart gave her a cheeky grin and blew on the ink to ensure it was dry before handing back the book and parchment. With a hasty "Thank you!" Hermione and Harry headed quickly to the library. Madam Pince was infinitely more difficult to convince, the vulture-like witch even going so far as to scan the request slip with several spells as if determined to detect a forgery, but Hermione held her ground and soon had a large, slightly dusty tome in her possession.

"That was a performance any Slytherin would be proud of," Harry remarked as Hermione carefully tucked the old book into her bag. "I think Draco's rubbing off on you, Maya."

"Oh, please," Hermione scoffed, though her cheeks did flush a little, "Draco's been 'rubbing off on me', as you put it, since long before he became a Slytherin. I can certainly give as well as I get, thank you very much." Harry laughed heartily at his friend's declaration, which was definitely the truth, and the two Gryffindors returned to the Room of Requirement, where they found Draco and Ginny waiting for them.

"Did you get it?" Ginny asked as Harry shut the door.

"Right here." Hermione retrieved the book from her bag and gingerly placed it on the coffee table. The pages' edges were stained with a number of unknown substances, and the entry for Polyjuice Potion featured an assortment of highly gruesome pictures.

"Ugh," Ginny said, making a face as she studied one of the images, "I hope it doesn't taste as bad as it looks."

"You're not the one who has to drink it, Gin," Draco reminded her, "unless you fancy turning into Millicent Bulstrode, that is."

"She's the one who's as big as the fifth-year boys and twice as mean," Harry explained on seeing Ginny's confused expression. "Hangs out with Pansy Parkinson."

"Oh – yeah, no thanks," Ginny replied. "I'll just help Hermione with the brewing."

"How long do you think it'll take, Lotte?" Draco asked. Hermione had been studying the recipe intently while the others talked.

"About a month," she said, frowning at the book, "which I suppose is perfect if we – and the Slytherins we need – all stay here for Christmas, although if we're lucky, we might still be able to go home if we time it right."

"Let's hope we can, then," Draco said, his expression now mirroring Hermione's. "Nott made it quite clear last year that staying at Hogwarts over the holidays is beneath him, so he'll definitely be going home. Besides, we'll have more people to talk to if we can do it while term's still in session."

"Do you think the room can give us ingredients?" Hermione wondered. "Some of these definitely aren't in the student cupboards, and I don't particularly fancy the idea of stealing from Snape."

"Definitely not," Harry agreed. "We'd never pull that off without getting caught, and then there'd be no point in making the potion anymore, coz Snape would expel us in a heartbeat."  
"I think we need to see what this room can do before we worry about anything else," Ginny pointed out. "We just have to be really specific about what we need. I think Draco should do the asking – I haven't been in here as much as you guys, but from what I've seen, he's the best besides Neville at closing all the loopholes." The others acknowledged that Ginny was right, and they collected their things and left the room. The three Gryffindors fell silent as the door faded into nothing and Draco set to pacing in front of the wall, muttering to himself as he did so. A moment later, the door reappeared, and the group cautiously stepped forward.

"Did it work?" Harry asked, looking unconvinced. "The door looks exactly the same…"

"Only one way to find out," Ginny replied. She nudged her way to the front and pulled the handle.

The room had indeed outdone itself, their familiar lounging space having become a fully stocked laboratory. A long counter with high stools ran the length of the far wall, and a selection of cauldrons in various sizes hung on hooks nearby. Hermione clapped her hands excitedly as she opened the cupboards to find them full of ingredients.

"All of the rarer things we need are here," she declared as she removed a container of boomslang skin. "It hasn't given us the common stuff, but we can help ourselves down in the dungeons. If we start tonight, I think we can get this done before the end of term."

* * *

The following week, a new announcement appeared on all the house notice boards.

"They're starting a dueling club!" Hermione said excitedly. "I've always wanted to learn – I know Padfoot said he'd teach us this summer, but it can't hurt to get some practice in before then."

"I wonder who's leading it," Harry mused as they headed to breakfast. "Mum said Flitwick was a dueling champion when he was younger – makes sense, since he's so adept with Charms – so maybe it's him. With our luck, though, it'll be Lockhart."

"Guess we'll just have to wait and see," Hermione said with a shrug, sliding into her spot on the Gryffindor bench. "Bacon, Harry?"

On Thursday night, Harry, Hermione, and what looked to be most of Gryffindor House returned to the Great Hall an hour after dinner. The dining tables had vanished and been replaced by a large portable stage, around which most of the school was already gathered – it seemed that everyone was eager to see what dueling club was all about. Harry and Hermione easily spotted Draco's platinum hair and made their way through the crowd to their friend, who was talking animatedly with Tracey and Blaise.

No sooner had the last student entered the hall did the doors burst open with a colossal crash. Billowing blue clouds rolled into the room and slowly dissipated to reveal…

"Of course," Harry groaned as Lockhart took to the stage. "Who else would feel the need to make such a dramatic entrance?"

"Nobody," Draco snorted. "This could be interesting."

"Good evening!" Lockhart boomed, beaming toothily at them all from his elevated position. "Welcome to the first meeting of the dueling club! Of course, there really was no need to gauge interest – I knew you'd all want to come when you knew it was me teaching you – but I digress!" He paused as if expecting some sort of grand reaction. When he got none, he continued, "Anyway, I'm going to teach you all a little bit about what it means to be a great duelist. These spells have gotten me out of a jam time and time again – for detailed accounts of how, be sure to see my published works. Now, please allow me to introduce my assistant – Professor Snape!"

Snape had indeed entered the room unnoticed, probably through the back door behind the teachers' table, and was now standing on the stage with Lockhart, looking as surly and intimidating as ever.

"Professor Snape has kindly agreed to help me demonstrate this evening," Lockhart said. "Shall we start with a little Disarming spell then, Professor?"

"Indeed." Snape's black eyes narrowed, and Harry suspected the Potions master definitely wanted to do more than just disarm Lockhart.

"On three, then? One…two…"

_"Expelliarmus!"_ Snape shouted. Lockhart's wand shot out of his hand straight into Snape's waiting one, and the force of the spell knocked Lockhart clean off his feet.

"Ah, well, yes," he said as he hastily scrambled to his feet and brushed off his robes. "Of course I _knew_ you were going to cast early, Severus, I just wanted to show everyone what would happen if you did…"

"Playing with fire, isn't he?" Harry murmured to Hermione. "Snape looks ready to murder him…" Hermione nodded, unable to take her eyes off the two professors.

"Let's pair them off and see how they do!" Lockhart declared loudly. "Disarming is useful, so useful – of course, being able to just Obliviate your opponent is even more so, but we can't all be experts at that!" He leaped from the stage and began partnering students together. Snape strode down the steps, his robes billowing behind him, and did the same.

"Alright, then!" Lockhart called once everyone had a partner. "On three, you're going to practice Disarming – Disarming _only._ One…two…three!"

Cries of _"Expelliarmus!"_ filled the hall, but dozens of other spells flew in all directions as many of the students dismissed Lockhart's instructions. The biggest problems came from the Gryffindor-Slytherin pairs the professor had created as the rival houses jumped at the chance to curse each other. Snape had sense enough to roar, _"Finite Incantatem!"_ before things got too out of hand, but nearly a dozen students still needed to be sent to Madam Pomfrey.

"Perhaps we need to teach the students how to _block_ an opponent's spells?" Snape suggested. Lockhart missed the dangerous tone in Snape's voice, but very few others did.

"An excellent idea – I was just about to suggest it myself!" Lockhart agreed. Snape's eyes glittered dangerously. "Let's get a volunteer pair up here then – how about…Potter and Black! The most notorious names in the school – where are you, boys? Come on up now, don't be shy!" Snape rolled his eyes openly at Lockhart's statement, and Harry and Draco hauled themselves up on the stage.

"These two," Lockhart said fondly. _"Where_ do we even start…"

_"Expelliarmus,"_ Snape interrupted. Many of the students chuckled at Snape's snarky answer.

"Right…of course!" Lockhart said. "Harry, my boy, come on down this way!" Harry reluctantly obeyed, and Lockhart immediately started firing off suggestions while flourishing his wand. Quickly recognizing that Lockhart wasn't saying anything helpful, Harry glanced at the other end of the stage to see his brother conversing quietly with Snape, who seemed to be instructing him. Draco nodded once and turned to face Harry.

"Now, the first thing you must do in any duel is bow!" Lockhart declared. Harry and Draco stepped forward until they were just a few feet apart.

"You ready for this?" Draco said quietly.

"Absolutely," Harry replied. They smirked at each other before bowing and pacing away again.

_"Expelliarmus!"_ Harry yelled.

_"Protego!"_ Draco shouted. Harry didn't recognize the spell, but it did the job – the jet of red light that had left Harry's wand ricocheted away from Draco and back the way it came, and Harry only just had time to duck out of the way.

"Not fair," he muttered to himself. "Snape actually told Draco something useful."

_"Rictusempra!"_

_"Protego!"_ Harry retaliated, trying out the new charm. It absorbed Draco's spell easily. The boys grinned conspiratorially when they realized the implications of the new spell, and they began firing hexes at each other with gusto, multicolored lights flying back and forth across the stage. Lockhart looked terrified and started doing his best to get them to stop, but Snape merely stood back, a slightly satisfied smirk on his face, and the assembled students all looked interested. Finally, two of their spells collided with a massive _bang,_ a streak of gold light shooting straight up to the ceiling. When the smoke cleared, everyone froze. Lying in the middle of the stage was a cobra.

The hall was deadly quiet as the snake slowly slithered towards Draco.

"N-n-no!" Draco stammered, backing away as quickly as he could without provoking the reptile. "Leave me alone!" The snake hissed venomously and turned its head, seemingly realizing for the first time that there were others on the platform. It turned its beady eyes on Harry, who yelped and scrambled backwards too.

"Allow me!" Lockhart shouted. He fired off a spell, but all it did was send the snake shooting ten feet into the air. When the creature landed, it spat furiously and reared. Before it could strike anyone, Snape raised his wand and bellowed a spell, and the snake vanished.

A hush fell over the crowd – nobody seemed to know what to do. The only noise came from Harry and Draco, who were both breathing heavily and clearly shaken up after the close encounter. Then, quite suddenly, someone shouted, "Heir of Slytherin!" Heads turned to find Ernie MacMillan, a pompous Hufflepuff boy in Harry's year, pointing dramatically at the stage.

"Excuse me, Mr. MacMillan?" Lockhart asked, looking puzzled.

"Which one of them conjured the snake?" Ernie demanded. "They should be dragged in for questioning, the both of them! We all know trouble flocks to Potter like goblins to gold, and Black, with his history…they're probably working together!"

"Don't be stupid, Ernie," Susan Bones snapped. "Have you forgotten they're best friends with a Muggle-born?"

"I'm telling you, one of them's the Heir of Slytherin!" Ernie shouted.

"Mr. MacMillan, that is enough," Snape said icily. "Detention and twenty points from Hufflepuff for your outrageous behavior. The rest of you, get out of here." The students scrambled to do as he bid, no one wanting to stay in the irate professor's company any longer than was necessary.

"Room of Requirement, _now,_" Hermione hissed to the boys before she was swept away by the crowd. She looked livid.

"What is it, Lotte?" Draco asked once they'd all made it to the seventh floor.

"It's Nott, that's what," Hermione snapped. "I was almost right behind him during your duel, and I saw him conjure the snake. He's probably doing anything he can to blame one of you – you know how much he hates all of us."

"The feeling's mutual, I assure you," Draco replied coolly.

"Tell a teacher, Maya," Harry urged. "He can't get away with something like that!"

"Who am I supposed to tell, Harry?" Hermione said exasperatedly. "Snape will just say I made it up to take the focus off you – he knows we don't get along with Nott – and Lockhart never listens to stuff like that."

"Unfortunately, you have a point on both counts. Why would Ernie say something like that, though?" Harry asked. "I always thought he was alright."

"Harry, the symbol of Slytherin House is a serpent for a reason," Hermione sighed. "Salazar Slytherin was a Parselmouth – he could talk to snakes. Obviously neither of you are, as I'm pretty sure we would've figured that out by now, but it stands to reason that his heir might be, and it probably doesn't help that the snake turned away when Draco yelled at it."

"Fabulous," Draco replied sarcastically. "Of course, MacMillan's never been the brightest, but not everybody knows that. Ten Galleons says half the school thinks we're the perpetrators by tomorrow morning."

* * *

**A/N: Clearly, my previous note about possibly not updating as often was rubbish...lol. Might even get another chapter up today if I'm feeling ambitious.**

**Thanks to everyone who's followed/favorited/reviewed since the last chapter! You're the best.**

**JKR owns all things Potter, as always. I just play. Please R&R, & enjoy! :)**


	9. The Monster's Mistake

Unfortunately, Draco's prediction wasn't all that far off, and the next few weeks were rather rough. Harsh accusations followed Draco and Harry wherever they went, the speakers not even bothering to keep their voices down as they sneered at the two boys. Fred and George Weasley tried to lighten the mood by making a joke out of the whole thing, but no matter how much Harry appreciated the attempt, it only went so far.

"Ignore them," Hermione said firmly as she stirred knotgrass into the cauldron one afternoon. The Polyjuice Potion was coming along nicely and was on track to be ready by the last week of term. "There's always going to be someone who's too thick to think things through before speaking, and if you let them get to you, it just means they've won." She tapped her spoon on the side of the cauldron, set it aside, and turned her attention to carefully cutting up the boomslang skin.

"I'm trying," Harry assured her. "It's just…hard. I know it sounds ridiculous, but it hurts, you know?" Hermione's expression softened as she put down her knife and turned to face him.

"I know it does," she said quietly, "but you can't let them win, Harry, not when you know they're wrong." She gave both of them a quick hug.

"I've had a thought," Draco said after a few moments. "Who else is going to be drinking this stuff? Harry, obviously, but he can't be both Crabbe and Goyle at the same time."

"Oh – yeah, that is a bit of a problem," Hermione acknowledged with a frown.

"What about Neville or Ron?" Ginny suggested. Harry quickly shook his head.

"I'd trust Neville to help us in a heartbeat, but he's a terrible actor and still deathly afraid of most of the Slytherins – not really a good combination when we're planning on walking right into the snakes' den. Ron's been in a weird mood lately – of course, he wouldn't say no to anything that might pin this whole mess on his least favorite house, but I don't really trust him not to spill everything later, or to not lose his temper when somebody inevitably says something offensive – no offense," he added hastily. Ginny merely shrugged.

"Can't argue with you when you make a valid point," she said simply. "But that doesn't really leave us with anyone else, does it?"

"I think I'm going to have to do it," Draco said. The others looked at him curiously.

"But…wasn't the point to have two people go _with_ you, not _instead of_ you?" Ginny asked. "Besides, doesn't it seem rather silly for you to go from being one Slytherin to being another?"

"It might, if you ignore a few things," Draco said. "For one, I don't exactly get along with most of my housemates, especially not those who are openly anti-Muggle-born – they're not stupid, they know who I spend most of my time with. And second, there's this whole 'Harry-and-I-are-the-tag-teaming-heirs-of-Slytherin' story going around – you really think people will willingly open up to someone they believe to be guilty?"

"Do the Slytherins believe that rubbish too?" Hermione asked.

"Some of them do – maybe not for the same reasons as the other houses, but yes. Think about it for a second – I'm the product of two very powerful, very _pureblood_ magical families, ancient lines that prided themselves on being everything Salazar Slytherin himself prized. If that was all you knew about me, what would you think?"

"Well, when you put it that way, the idea of you being the heir doesn't sound like rubbish at all," Ginny admitted. "It sounds more than plausible, actually."

"My point exactly," Draco agreed. "From a Slytherin's point of view, I'm actually a rather formidable enemy – which could be useful later, mind you, but right now it's just annoying. Anyway, my point is that we might have more success if everyone participating is someone Nott will actually speak with. If I take the potion, Harry and I will still be able to get into the common room no problem, and we'll have the added advantage of both of us being able to talk to people. Besides, Nott will think something's up if only Crabbe _or_ Goyle shows up, since one never goes anywhere without the other." They decided that Draco's argument was a good one, and Hermione stirred the potion once more before the group retreated to their much more comfortable lounge to do homework.

The Polyjuice Potion was finally ready three days before the Hogwarts Express was due to journey south, but it was late enough when Hermione added the final ingredient that they decided to wait until the following evening to carry out their plan. Just before dinner on the appointed night, Ginny slipped Draco two small chocolate cupcakes.

"They're laced with a Sleeping Draught," she said. "As long as they eat the cakes, they'll be out cold for at least an hour – can you make sure they get them, preferably as close to the end of dinner as possible? Hermione will be waiting for you guys upstairs."

"No problem," Draco assured her. "Those two will eat almost anything." They shared a laugh before heading to their separate tables.

Phase one of their plan went off without a hitch. Nott left the Great Hall far earlier than Crabbe and Goyle, which made it almost too easy for Draco to slip the cupcakes in amongst the other sweets piled high on their plates. Crabbe and Goyle were some of the last people to leave the hall, and they took the cupcakes with them. For one heart-stopping moment, Harry and Draco thought they weren't going to eat them, but the two huge Slytherins dug in just before they reached the staircase to the dungeons. They only had time to exchange confused glances before they slumped to the floor in a dead faint. Moving quickly so as not to be seen, Harry and Draco dragged their unconscious classmates into a nearby broom closet, ripping out a handful of their victims' hairs and stealing their shoes before locking the door securely.

"Why'd we need their shoes again?" Harry asked as they climbed the marble staircase. Crabbe's were heavy and smelled weird.

"Because their feet are like five sizes bigger than ours, easily," Draco answered. "Hermione said she was getting us spare robes, but you can't steal shoes from the laundry." They trudged their way upstairs and entered the lab. Hermione was seated on one of the stools, gently stirring the potion and humming to herself.

"Oh, there you are," she said. "I was starting to wonder what was keeping you so long."

"Crabbe and Goyle like to eat," Harry replied. Hermione snorted and ladled the potion into two identical glasses.

"Add the hairs, and drink up," she ordered. "You'll only have an hour, so make sure to keep an eye on your watches."

"Um…Hermione?" Harry asked, watching as his potion turned a disgusting shade of greenish-brown. "Would you mind giving us some privacy? We're going to have to change clothes in a minute here…"

"Oh, of course!" she replied quickly. She muttered something under her breath, and the back of the room shifted, revealing a set of bathroom stalls. "There you go." The boys thanked her, took the larger robes she offered them, and locked themselves in the stalls.

"Oh, sweet _Salazar,_ that's gross!" Draco cried, coughing violently. "Lotte, I hate you for this!"

"Ugh!" Harry fought to keep from retching as the sour-tasting potion slid down his throat and immediately started doing the conga with his insides. He dropped his cup as the pain led him to instinctively clutch his stomach, shattered glass fragments and the last few drops of the potion spraying all over the floor.

A moment later, it was over.

"Harry?" someone called. "You alright?" Harry knew it was Draco, but hearing Goyle's voice speaking to him in such a conversational way was just bizarre.

"I'm good," he grunted back. He started at the foreign sounds coming from his own mouth. There was a rustling of fabric as he and Draco slipped on the larger uniforms, and then they unlocked their stalls.

"This is so weird," Draco muttered, taking in the sight of Harry as Crabbe.

"At least you're infiltrating your own common room," Harry retorted. The thought was so absurd that both boys burst into laughter.

"As funny as this whole situation is, you should really get going," Hermione urged, though she smiled too. "It'll take you at least ten minutes just to get to the Slytherin common room from here, won't it?"

"Alright, Lotte, we're going," Draco chuckled.

"Ugh – don't call me Lotte while you look like that," Hermione said with a grimace. "It doesn't sound right at all. Now get going, will you!"

Harry followed Draco through the corridors, down the stairs, and into the passage to the dungeons, where they eventually stopped at a bare stretch of stone wall not unlike that which hid the entrance to the Room of Requirement.

"Pureblood," Draco stated clearly. It was obviously a password, and the wall slid sideways to allow them entrance. The Slytherin common room was a long, low-ceilinged room with a subtle green tinge, charmed lanterns hanging overhead and a roaring fire in the grate. A few dozen students were lounging on couches or doing homework at tables, and the occasional fish was visible through the underwater windows.

"Nice place," Harry remarked quietly as he and Draco scanned the room for Nott.

"It's really not all that bad," Draco replied. "It'd be nice to be aboveground sometimes, obviously, but I get that with you lot in the Room of Requirement, and the chairs here are super comfortable."

"Crabbe! Goyle! Where have you two been?" someone snapped. Harry and Draco turned to find the object of their search standing in front of them, his arms crossed.

"Honestly, do you two ever stop eating?" Nott admonished. "I've been waiting to talk to you." He crossed to an empty set of chairs, gesturing for his companions to sit.

"What about?" Draco asked casually. According to him, Goyle was more of a talker than Crabbe, though neither boy spoke much. Since Draco had interacted with the Slytherins more than Harry, he'd transformed into Goyle so he could hopefully steer the conversation in the right direction without arousing too much suspicion.

"What else, Goyle?" Nott replied, rolling his eyes a little. "The Chamber of Secrets, of course."

"Do you know something, then?"

"I just told you yesterday that I didn't," Nott said impatiently. "No more than anyone else does, at any rate. I know that it was opened before, and-"

"Wait, what?" Harry asked before he could stop himself. Draco raised his eyebrows at him in alarm, but Nott merely scoffed.

"Were you listening to nothing I told you, Crabbe?" he asked sardonically. "The Chamber of Secrets was opened once before, fifty years ago, I think. My father wouldn't tell me much more than that, but the person who did it was caught and expelled."

"If the person was caught, how come it's happening again?" Draco wondered.

"Family secret, maybe? I doubt the culprit didn't go to Azkaban, since a Mudblood actually died, and we all know you can't break out of that place." Thankfully, Nott missed Harry's sharp intake of breath when he'd mentioned the casualty. "Anyway, it's been a while since the last attack, and we know there's so much more Mudblood filth in this place, so it's only a matter of time before the heir strikes again, I'd say. The faster he rids Hogwarts of all the scum, the better – too bad he's not purging blood traitors as well."

"So you don't have any idea who the heir is?" Draco pressed. Their time was running short.

"Not really," Nott admitted, "although whoever it is, I'd like to give them a medal. They've certainly got the right idea. That whole rumor about Black being the heir – what a load of rubbish. As if someone like him could be the Heir of Slytherin – well, I suppose he could, if he were still in his proper place, but he spends all his time with Potter and that know-it-all Granger brat. Dear Merlin, he even _lives_ with a Mudblood – his parents would be rolling in their graves if they could see him now."

Harry had to quickly grab the back of Draco's robes to keep his brother from lunging at Nott, while simultaneously keeping his own anger in check. The prat had just insulted his mum and his best friend, _and_ made a cruel crack at Draco's own parents, one of whom was dead while the other might as well have been.

"Never mind about Black," Draco said quickly. Harry didn't miss the hint of venom in his brother's tone and fisted his robes a little tighter, silently warning Draco to calm down. They'd be in serious trouble if they blew their cover now.

"Yes, never mind about him," Nott agreed. "He's a stain on an otherwise perfect family name and not worth my time." He examined his fingernails nonchalantly. "But then again, every pureblooded family has their secrets." He shrugged.

"It's time," Harry muttered under his breath. They had two minutes until their hour was up – if they didn't move now, they'd never make it out of the common room before they started to change back.

"Right," Draco replied. He stood up. "We'll be back in a bit – Crabbe here's got a stomachache."

"Whatever," Nott said, his eyes never leaving his nails. As quickly as they could, Harry and Draco left the common room, and once they were away from prying eyes, they raced up the stairs to the entrance hall. They dumped Crabbe and Goyle's shoes outside the broom cupboard – they figured someone else could actually let them out – and hurried up the stairs, trying not to trip on their robes as they rapidly shrank back into themselves.

"Any luck?" Hermione asked once they'd reunited. They quickly told her what they'd learned about the chamber being opened before.

"Hmm…I think it's time we start looking into what happened fifty years ago," Hermione said.

The next morning, chaos reigned as students across the school hurriedly packed up the last of their belongings for the long journey home. Harry and Hermione rushed to grab some breakfast, and Draco sent them a note via charmed parchment saying that he'd meet them on the train if he didn't catch them at the carriages. Conversation in the Great Hall was loud and boisterous as everyone discussed their plans for the holidays, and people soon started filtering out of the hall to make their way down to the station.

The happy chatter was broken as someone screamed. Students fanned out in all directions to make room for those pushing from behind, and Harry and Hermione soon saw what had caused the commotion. Two students were laying Petrified in the middle of the entrance hall, their gaze directed at the intricate windows far above the main doors. They were both second-year Hufflepuffs, and Harry recognized them immediately.

"Justin and…Hannah?" he said, looking perplexed. "But Hannah's a pureblood!"

"Not only that," Hermione said, "but her family's on the Ministry's list, the one that's supposedly the 'purest' of the remaining pureblooded families."

"What does that mean?" Harry asked, still staring at the prone forms of his classmates.

"It means…" Hermione paused and took a deep breath. Oddly enough, she was grinning. "It means the monster has made its first mistake."

* * *

**A/N: Just keeping things interesting... ;)**

**Thanks to all new follows/faves/reviews! Hope you're all liking part 2 so far.**

**JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R&R, & enjoy! :)**


	10. A Night in June

"What do you mean, Hermione?" Harry asked as they joined the queue waiting for the carriages.

"I'll explain on the train," Hermione said, waving him off almost impatiently. "I'm sure the others will want to talk about it too, and I don't feel like explaining myself twice. Besides, if you think about it, the answer should be pretty obvious." She quickly turned the conversation to talk of the upcoming holiday as the carriages lurched forward and began their journey to Hogsmeade Station. The tiny platform was in a state of chaos as students hurried to get on the train, and it took Harry and Hermione nearly fifteen minutes before they found their friends' compartment.

"So…another attack, huh?" Blaise asked without preamble. Hermione gave Harry a look as if to say, "I told you so."

"Yeah – horrible that it happened today though, isn't it?" Ginny said. "I mean, their families are probably expecting them home for Christmas – how does Dumbledore explain that one to them?"

"I don't understand why Hannah was Petrified," Draco added, unintentionally echoing his brother's earlier words to Hermione. "I mean, she's a pureblood, isn't she?"

"Yeah, she is," Harry confirmed. "Maya seemed to have an idea though – said the monster had made a mistake?"

"Well, yes, it obviously did," Hermione said. "The whole point of the monster is to rid the school of those Slytherin deemed unworthy to study magic – Muggle-borns. However, a pureblood has just turned up Petrified, which, ironically enough, confirms what we've been saying all along."

"Which part of it?" Ginny asked. "We've been saying a lot of things, Hermione."

"The most important part," Hermione said. Just as she'd done earlier, she grinned. "The monster of Slytherin can't even tell the difference between a pureblood and a Muggle-born…"

"Which means there _is_ no difference," Draco finished for her, catching on.

"Exactly! If the heir was someone who _knew_ who was Muggle-born and who wasn't, someone who was bent on following Slytherin's wishes, would they have sent the monster out when a pureblood was around? Not a chance, which means that he – or she – probably just overheard a conversation about Colin's parentage and got lucky when Colin ventured out alone. Justin is a Muggle-born as well, but Hannah's family, like I said, is on the Ministry's registry of the supposed 'purest of the pure'. The fact that someone from that list was attacked proves that there is nothing distinguishing her blood from mine."

"The Slytherins will get a kick out of that one, Hermione," Blaise said with a laugh. "I'll bet you're not the only one who comes to that conclusion. The funny thing is, it'll be the blood supremacists who figure it out first, since they're force-fed that list from birth, and try as they might to deny the answer blatantly staring them in the face, they won't be able to."

"We'll have to be careful, then," Tracey said slowly, speaking for the first time. "That knowledge is bound to make a lot of people angry – the hardcore ones in particular will do anything to dispel the idea, which could get really dangerous really fast."

"Trace, we've done far worse and survived," Draco assured her. "We'll just keep an eye on everyone and hope the heir is caught sooner rather than later."

* * *

The first few days of the break were spend preparing for the holidays – baking cookies, decorating Christmas trees in both the Potter-Black and Granger living rooms, singing along with carols on the wireless, and wrapping presents. On Christmas Eve, the two families went ice-skating on a nearby pond before returning to the Grangers' for a sumptuous feast that left them all rubbing overly full stomachs contentedly. Christmas morning was a lively affair as well, the children's' favorite presents being a set of beautifully embossed leather wand holsters that strapped conveniently to their forearms and would magically expand as they got older. Puddlemere United played the Ballycastle Bats that afternoon, and the group made quite the racket as they cheered their favorite team to an eventual victory. That evening, the children pulled the hand-knitted jumpers Molly Weasley had made them over their pajamas and curled up in front of the fire with steaming mugs of hot cocoa, _It's a Wonderful Life_ playing quietly on the television as they reflected on another wonderful holiday. It wasn't long before the exhausted trio fell asleep right there on the living room floor, and the adults just smiled fondly and covered them with thick blankets before letting them be.

Boxing Day, unfortunately, wasn't nearly as much fun as Christmas had been. Harry and Draco had to make their obligatory visit to Harry's Aunt Petunia's house – the blood magic connecting Lily to her sister was part of what kept them safe, but even that thought couldn't block out the memories of the previous year's disastrous visit. This year's get-together was slightly better in that Uncle Vernon had taken Dudley out for the day, so they only had to visit with Aunt Petunia; even so, the blonde woman's obviously nervous state made for an uncomfortable afternoon. The boys' only comfort was that Hermione's afternoon wasn't much better – now that she'd grown all her permanent teeth, her parents insisted it was time to go ahead with her braces. Hermione wanted to protest that putting something so obviously Muggle on her teeth wasn't exactly the best idea at the moment, but explaining why would've led to any number of awkward questions, so she kept quiet and endured a few hours in the dentist's chair. When she emerged, her teeth glinted with their silver additions, and they hurt enough that Hermione could eat little more than soup, omelets, and extra-soft ice cream for several days. The trio spent the rest of their holidays tackling the homework they'd been given, spending an entire morning struggling through an exceptionally difficult Potions essay before tackling equally lengthy assignments for Transfiguration, Charms, and Astronomy. They were almost relieved when it came time to go back to school – at least there, it made sense to be doing so much work.

Lessons were demanding from the start, and January flew by as the friends found themselves working as hard as ever. Draco and Harry, of course, had Quidditch practices as well as homework, and Hermione found herself helping them manage their time to ensure they could still get to bed at a reasonable hour. The attack just before the holidays had most students questioning if anyone was safe anymore, and the friends spent far fewer evenings in the Room of Requirement now, not wanting to test that theory during late walks back to their common rooms. The charmed parchment came in handy on those days, and they found themselves going through ink at an alarming rate as they sent messages back and forth.

"Maybe it's time to ask for one of those self-inking quills," Hermione quipped one evening as she opened yet another new inkbottle. As if he was reading her mind, Draco's next message read, _Sure could use a self-inking quill right now!_ Harry and Hermione burst out laughing.

* * *

The last Saturday of January, Slytherin and Ravenclaw met in the first Quidditch match of the term. Slytherin narrowly won, Draco contributing three goals to the victory. Harry thumped his brother on the back and Hermione gave him a fierce hug before they sent him on his way to the dungeons to celebrate. They largely ignored the grumblings of their housemates as they headed back to Gryffindor Tower – Slytherin's win had put them in first place for the Quidditch Cup.

"Hey, I need to run upstairs and grab my Charms book," Harry said once they'd reached the common room. "Be right back."

"Why don't I just come with you?" Hermione suggested. "It's probably quieter up there than in here right now." Most of the other Gryffindors were in the common room, still talking loudly about the match they'd just watched. Harry acknowledged that this was indeed a better course of action if they intended to get their work done before midnight, and the two ventured up the spiral staircase to the boys' dormitories. The second-years' room was, as predicted, empty.

"Harry, I didn't know you kept a diary," Hermione chuckled as she sat down on Harry's trunk. Harry shot her a confused look.

"I don't," he replied. "What made you say that?"

"Oh – this just looks awfully like a diary, that's all," Hermione said, holding up the little black book she'd moved aside moments before.

"It does…but that's not mine."

"Oh. Whose is it, then?"

"Dunno. Is there anything in it?" Harry reached over and took the diary from Hermione, but the only thing stamped on the cover was the logo of a shop in Muggle London. The inside of the book was completely blank.

"Well, that's odd," Hermione said as she examined the logo. "I'm not positive, but I'm pretty sure this shop doesn't even exist anymore. Where did this thing come from?"

"No idea. Maybe I'll just keep it – you seem to think I need a record of my life, so why not?" Harry replied with a wink. He unscrewed his ink and loaded his quill before flipping the book open to the first page.

_Slytherin beat Ravenclaw at Quidditch today, and now I'm procrastinating this essay for Flitwick,_ he scrawled. Hermione laughed at the latter portion of the sentence, then gasped as the ink sank right into the page and disappeared. A new message, this one in a very different hand, appeared:

_It seems some things never change, do they?_

Harry and Hermione stared at the diary in shock. It was obviously charmed somehow…was it safe?

"Should we…find out who we're talking to?" Harry asked.

"I…I dunno," Hermione said cautiously. "I suppose it can't hurt…just be careful what you say, yeah?"

_With a response like that, I take it you're a student at Hogwarts too?_ Harry inquired.

_Was,_ the mystery correspondent corrected. _Surely a current student wouldn't be using a fifty-year-old diary, would they? Even if they bought their things second-hand, that'd be a little excessive, would it not?_

"He's got a point," Hermione admitted.

"He?" Harry asked.

"That's definitely not a girl's handwriting," Hermione pointed out.

"Ah – true."

_To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?_

"Should we tell him?"

"I guess…"

_Harry Potter and Hermione Granger._

_Harry Potter? Well then – I've heard of you, been dying to meet you, actually. And Miss Granger – welcome._ There was no denying that the writer was flattering.

"Harry," Hermione said quickly, "he told us the diary was fifty years old – you don't think he was at Hogwarts fifty years ago, do you? Wasn't that when Nott said the chamber was opened last?"

"You think maybe he knows something about it?" Harry wondered, his eyes wide.

"Can't hurt to ask, can it? We've got absolutely nothing to go on," Hermione reminded him.

_Do you know anything about the Chamber of Secrets? It's been opened this year, and we heard that it last happened fifty years ago._

_As a matter of fact, I do. I was at Hogwarts the last time the chamber was opened – if you like, I can show you what happened the night the culprit was caught._

The two Gryffindors stared at the diary for several long moments, temporarily at a loss for words.

"He knows who did it?" Hermione said finally. "That's great – we can find out and put a stop to this whole thing!"

"What does he mean, 'show us'?" Harry asked.

"Well, you should ask him that, not me," Hermione said. Harry quickly scribbled his question. Instead of a written reply, the diary flipped forward to a page dated early June, where a miniature picture had appeared. The images within were moving, as they tended to do in the Wizarding world, but they were far too tiny for them to see anything, so they leaned closer. As they did so, Harry and Hermione found themselves lurching forwards, straight into the diary itself.

"I think – I think we're in a memory," Hermione stammered after they'd regained their bearings. They were standing in a corridor they recognized as being the one near their Potions classroom, and a Slytherin student – a sixth- or seventh-year, by the looks of him – stood nearby.

"Er…sorry to disturb you," Harry said, glancing at their companion. The young man was tall and unquestionably handsome, with dark hair and striking features. He remained staring at a point further down the corridor, completely ignoring Harry.

"I don't think he can hear you, Harry," Hermione said. "I think that's our correspondent, and if I'm right in saying this is his memory from fifty years ago, we're just outsiders viewing the scene."

"Makes sense," Harry acknowledged. "What do we do now?" As if in answer to his question, the Slytherin boy abruptly turned and began to walk down the corridor leading further into the dungeons.

"We follow him," Hermione said simply. They trailed the boy through several more corridors until he came to a stop and hid in an alcove near the Slytherin common room's entrance. After several long minutes in which nothing happened, they suddenly heard a grunting noise, which sounded like someone dragging something heavy down the corridor.

"C'mon…gotta get yeh outta here…" The Slytherin suddenly stepped from the alcove.

"Good evening, Hagrid." His voice matched his looks – smooth and silky, almost seductive.

"I – what're yeh doin' down here, Tom?"

"I think that's a more accurate question for _you_, Hagrid," Tom pointed out. "So far from your bed at this hour – at least I have the excuse of being a Slytherin. Did you really think you wouldn't get caught?"

"It wasn' Aragog, I swear! He never woulda hurt someone!"

"Hagrid, that monster of yours killed someone," Tom said bluntly. "Don't you think the poor girl's parents would feel better if their daughter's murderer was brought to justice?"

"But I didn'…he didn'…"

"Save your breath, Hagrid. The case against you is a rather damning one, after all." Tom raised his wand and shot a jet of light at the wooden crate at Hagrid's feet. It exploded, sending wood flying in all directions, and Harry and Hermione caught a glimpse of something huge scuttling up the corridor, its owner screaming as Tom continued to send curse after curse after the creature…

The world tilted in on itself, and Harry and Hermione abruptly found themselves flat on their backs on Harry's bed, both breathing heavily.

* * *

**A/N: Thank you so much for the follows/faves/reviews! You're wonderful, all of you.**

**To those of you celebrating it today, Happy 4th of July! We actually had our concert/fireworks/etc. last night due to the weather - it started raining at 11:30ish this morning & is still raining now (10pm). Hello, Hurricane Arthur... To anyone who isn't American, hope you had a happy Friday! It's a win either way, methinks.**

**JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R&R, & enjoy! :)**


	11. Trouble for the Trio

"What the hell was _that?"_ Harry muttered, reaching up to rub the sore spot on his head where he'd smacked it against his headboard.

"I…I don't know," Hermione finally answered. She was staring up at the underside of Harry's canopy as if in shock.

"We need to talk to Draco about this, as soon as possible," Harry said. He reached over to his bedside table, grabbed his charmed parchment, and scrawled a quick note to his brother:

_Meet in RoR straight after breakfast tomorrow – v. important._

"Well, now you've just gotten him intrigued," Hermione said with a small snort. "And we can't tell him in person 'til tomorrow, it's almost curfew."

"Well, he can sleep on his curiosity, then," Harry replied, now staring at the diary as if expecting it to spontaneously combust. "We don't have class tomorrow, so he can pester us all he wants then." He paused and pressed his fingers to his temples. "Merlin knows I won't be able to concentrate on my essay after that."

"Harry, we've got to try," Hermione admonished gently. "The professors have given us so much work lately, we'll be swamped if we put anything off."

Harry knew his friend was right, but try as they might, neither of them made much progress before they threw down their quills in frustration and went to bed.

Breakfast was an interesting affair Sunday morning – Harry had tucked the little black book into his pocket and was constantly worrying that something bad was going to happen as a result, and Draco kept shooting them both curious looks from across the room. Finally, Hermione huffed and slathered jam on half a dozen pieces of toast before gathering the stack up into a napkin and dragging Harry from the hall. She glanced towards the Slytherin table as discreetly as she could, and Draco nodded once to show he understood. Fifteen minutes later, the three friends were seated around the fire in the Room of Requirement.

"Alright, spill," Draco demanded as soon as they'd all helped themselves to Hermione's toast. "You can't just send me a message like that and not say anything else!"

"We couldn't, Dragon," Hermione soothed. "I know the parchments are charmed for our eyes only, but this has the potential to be really dangerous."

"Dangerous?" Draco asked, raising his eyebrows and leaning forward slightly in his chair. "How do you mean?" In response, Harry pulled the diary from his pocket and dropped it on the coffee table.

"This book is infused with someone's memories," he said, "someone who was a student at Hogwarts the last time the Chamber of Secrets was opened. Last night, he took us into his memory of the night the culprit was caught."

"So you know who did it?" Draco asked incredulously. Hermione bit her lip and hesitated.

"Harry, do you think it'd be possible to ask Tom to show Draco the memory too?"

"I don't see why not – why, though?"

"I think it'd be easier than having to explain it."

"I s'pose that makes sense," Harry agreed. He picked up a spare quill one of them had left behind and relayed their question to Tom. He replied in the affirmative almost immediately, and the trio soon found themselves in the memory. Draco kept glancing warily at the Slytherin of the past and actually jumped backwards in shock when Tom blasted the crate apart, and having already seen everything did nothing to make the experience any less disturbing the second time around for his Gryffindor comrades. When they returned to the present, they sat in silence for several long moments.

"Why was Hagrid carting an Acromantula around the school?" Draco finally blurted out.

"So I wasn't the only one who saw it, then," Hermione said, looking as if the confirmation was deeply troubling.

"Acromantula?" Harry asked.

"Giant spider – the fully grown ones can be as big as cart horses," Draco told him.

"Oh, yeah – I remember reading about those, I just didn't know what they were called," Harry said. He paused for a moment, frowned, and continued, "Wait a minute…that makes no sense!"

"That's exactly what I was thinking!" Hermione agreed. "Whatever came out of that crate – and I know it was dark, so maybe we're wrong – but it looked an awful lot like a spider, all three of us just said so. But why would spiders run away from another spider?"

"Exactly!" Harry said. "And I don't know about you, but I've never heard of a spider that has the ability to petrify someone."

"Well, no, there are plenty of spiders that can do that," Draco countered. "The venom of an Acromantula will certainly knock you out for quite a while, if it doesn't kill you."

"True, but none of the victims have woken up – it hasn't been that long for Justin and Hannah, but Colin's been incapacitated for nearly three months. And don't forget, none of them showed any signs of physical damage. If the Acromantula really was the monster, the thing was the size of a dog fifty years ago – it'd be enormous by now, and it'd have teeth to match. Nobody could get bitten by something that big and not have marks," Hermione replied. "And both Madam Pomfrey and Dumbledore agree that the victims are most definitely Petrified, not dead."

"So basically this is a ruse," Harry concluded. "This memory is a cover-up for what really happened, isn't it?"

"Seems so," Draco agreed. "From what little we know, anyway, it just doesn't seem right."

"I feel like there are a lot of things that 'don't seem right' this term," Hermione said. "This is certainly the most problematic, though."

"Who is this 'Tom', anyway?" Harry asked. "Who is he and what did he hope to gain by framing Hagrid?" He'd only interacted with the gamekeeper on a handful of occasions, but the man definitely didn't come across as malicious.

"He obviously knew who the real heir was – maybe he even _was_ the heir – and he probably knew what the monster was, too," Draco said. "Slytherins do have the reputation of doing absolutely anything to get what they want, you know."

"Once again, too many questions, not enough answers," Hermione sighed. She massaged the bridge of her nose and stared at the diary. "We should probably tell one of the teachers about this, but that requires us to figure out how to do so without revealing how we know what we do."  
"I'm sure we can come up with something," Draco reassured her.

"Tell Ginny too, if you like – she's been with us through enough of this that she deserves to know. I'm going to the library – there's some stuff I've been meaning to look up."

* * *

The announcement of a series of surprise practical exams the following day drove all thoughts of telling someone about the diary from the trio's minds, and indeed, they forgot all about the little book completely as they spent every spare moment of the next few days running over their notes in preparation. When someone voiced aloud in Charms class that they'd never had such tests outside their end-of-year examinations before, Professor Flitwick merely chirped, "Do real-life predicaments only happen in mid-June, then, children? You must always be prepared for the unknown!"

"Constant vigilance," Harry whispered to Hermione, who quickly stifled a giggle.

Harry, Hermione, and Draco survived the tests easily, and the three resumed their normal routines of homework and Quidditch. Gryffindor was scheduled to play Hufflepuff at the end of February, and Wood had the team training hard. Marcus Flint kept the Slytherin team out at all hours as well, and so Hermione found herself spending a lot of time in Ginny's company while the boys were absent.

Valentine's Day brought about a shock as the students went to breakfast to find the Great Hall decorated in various shades of pink, red, and white, confetti raining down on them from the ceiling as they tried to eat. Professor Lockhart, dressed in bright magenta robes for the occasion, declared that Valentine messages would be delivered to them throughout the day. Much to Harry's dismay and embarrassment, Ginny and Hermione teamed up to send him the most overly mushy message they could think of, which was then sung to him in the middle of the crowded corridor after Transfiguration.

"You know we love you, Harry," Hermione said affectionately, giving him a squeeze as he flopped down on the sofa in the Room of Requirement.

"I'll get you back for that, just you wait," he muttered, but he returned the hug good-naturedly.

"How come I didn't get one?" Draco asked, faking a hurt expression.

"Oh, stop pouting," Hermione chuckled. "It doesn't suit you. And we only had time to write one good rhyme – we'll come up with something for you later." Draco's pout vanished instantly, and he gulped, causing Hermione to dissolve into giggles.

"Oh, I love you both, you know that," she said, reaching over to hug him as well. "It's all in good fun."

At that moment, Ginny, who'd gone back to Gryffindor Tower to retrieve a forgotten textbook, came bursting into the room, looking flustered and out of breath.

"Harry – just ran into Neville – don't know who did it," she gasped, clutching the back of the nearest armchair for support.

"Don't know who did what, Gin?" Harry asked. He'd hurried to help her the instant she'd come in and was now grasping her shoulders and encouraging her to breathe.

"Just…come with me, you'll see," she urged. The trio shrugged and packed up their things – it was close enough to curfew that they should be going anyway – and followed Ginny out of the room. At the nearest intersection, they bid Draco goodnight before hurrying off to the portrait of the Fat Lady. As soon as they entered the common room, Neville rushed to greet them.

"Harry, I really don't know what happened, but you need to see it," he rambled, sounding just as discombobulated as Ginny.

"Neville, calm down," Hermione said quickly. "What happened?" Instead of answering, he gestured for them to follow, and they all trooped up the stairs to the dormitories.

Neither Harry nor Hermione were prepared for what they found. The second-year boys' dormitory was almost completely destroyed – bed hangings had been torn down, wardrobes flung open and emptied, and the contents of all five of the occupants' trunks were strewn around the floor.

"What on Earth…" Hermione gasped, staring at the carnage. "It almost looks like someone was searching the place. Is anything missing, Neville?"

"Not that I know of," he replied. "I haven't really gone through anything yet, since I only just saw the mess right before I sent Ginny to find you, and I haven't seen the others since dinner."

"They'll be back soon, I bet," Harry said, glancing at the clock. "It's nearly curfew. Let's start cleaning this up, and if we find anything missing, we'll say something."

The task was time-consuming and extremely tedious, especially when they tried to sort out the upturned trunks – it was almost impossible to determine what belonged to whom. Dean, Seamus, and Ron returned within the half hour, expressing similar dismay regarding the state of the room, and they quickly pitched in to help. By the time they'd finished, it was nearly eleven, and nothing seemed to be missing. The girls bid them goodnight with twin yawns and left to prepare for bed.

"I don't get it," Dean said. "Did somebody just decide to trash our dormitory for fun?"

"No idea," Harry called as he rummaged in his newly arranged wardrobe for fresh pajamas. "It does seem weird though, doesn't it?"

"You've got that right," came Seamus' Irish lilt from the other side of the room. "And what else is weird, I heard someone saying at lunch that another rooster turned up dead today…"

* * *

Hermione sat in the library, massaging her temples as her eyes scanned the faded text of yet another thick book. She knew she should be heading down to the Quidditch pitch soon, but she wanted to look up one last fact for her Defense essay before she forgot about it. It didn't help that her mind was plagued with thoughts of the Chamber of Secrets – what sort of creature scared spiders, and what did the roosters have to do with it? Ever since Harry had relayed Seamus' comment about the unfortunate birds, Hermione had been convinced the events were somehow connected. A book titled _Birds and Beasts of Magical Britain _lay on the desk before her, but she'd resolved not to touch it until she found the answer to her Defense query. The tip of her finger paused when she spotted a promising keyword, and she backtracked to read the full paragraph:

_Angela Westerman of Bavaria was a witch renowned for her work with magical creatures – at the height of her career, she successfully negotiated a series of laws with the German Ministry of Magic involving the rights of her native land's forest dwellers, changes that were met with overwhelming enthusiasm by both the German Wizarding population and the creatures the laws affected. She mysteriously disappeared on an expedition to a Tibetan village in the mid-1980s and was found three years later in India with no memory of how she came to be there. Further examination concluded that Fraulein Westerman's memory loss was more severe than anyone first expected, and she now resides in the assisted care wing of a Wizarding hospital in Munich._

The following paragraphs went into more detail about Angela Westerman's law work, but Hermione was more interested in the first passage's revelations. Fraulein Westerman had obviously been a well-liked person, and her work was more than beneficial – something about the incident didn't seem right. In fact, Hermione was certain she'd heard of other similar cases, and one involving a wizard who'd worked with ghouls immediately came to mind. Why had these prominent people suddenly dropped off the face of the earth, only to reappear months or even years later with no recollection of the events leading up to their disappearances?

Hermione gasped as echoes of an offhand statement came back to her: _"Disarming is useful, so useful – of course, being able to just Obliviate your opponent is even more so, but we can't all be experts at that!"_ Abandoning her essay, she quickly glanced around to make sure she was alone before tearing the page right out of the book, circling the passage, and quickly scribbling several names and comments in the margins. Hermione stuffed the page into her bag with the rest of her things and raced from the library. She needed to talk to someone quickly…

* * *

Harry was waiting on the Quidditch pitch, already sitting astride his Nimbus, when Professor McGonagall came hurrying onto the field, brandishing a megaphone.

"This Quidditch match has been cancelled!" she called. "All students should return to their common rooms immediately!" The crowd's interest was immediately piqued – Quidditch matches were _never_ cancelled.

"Mr. Potter, come with me, please…and I think it'd be best if we found Mr. Black as well," the Scottish witch said.

"I'll get him before he leaves," Harry replied. He'd seen his brother in the stands already, so he quickly mounted his broom and flew to where Draco was preparing to leave.

"McGonagall wants to see us," Harry told him.

"What for?"

"Dunno – can't imagine it's anything good, though. What could be bad enough to cancel Quidditch?"

The two boys joined Professor McGonagall on the pitch, and she ushered them quickly back to the castle, finally stopping at the hospital wing. She seemed agitated.

"There has been another attack," she said. "I felt you both needed to know before the rest of the school found out." The boys exchanged apprehensive glances at the professor's words.

"Who is it, Professor?" Harry asked cautiously. If his Head of House had felt the need to tell him first, the list of possible candidates wasn't very long, and none of the names was one he wanted to hear…

Professor McGonagall opened the doors to the ward, and they got their answer in the form of a very familiar head of bushy brown hair.

* * *

**A/N: And there you have it - I think that answers some of your questions...**

**As always, thank you so much for the follows/faves/reviews!**

**JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Angela Westerman is my own creation (just so nobody gets confused & is like, who is she in canon?) Please R&R, & enjoy! :)**


	12. The Hierarchy of Slytherin House

"Oh no…" Harry breathed. Draco didn't say anything, unable to tear his eyes from the still form of their best friend.

"I'll leave you two here for a bit," Professor McGonagall said. "I'm sure you'd like some time to yourselves." Harry gave his normally strict Head of House a grateful look and moved to take one of the chairs beside Hermione's bed. Draco quietly thanked the professor and joined his brother as soon as Professor McGonagall had left.

For a long time, neither boy spoke. The sight before them was horrible – Hermione was so still she seemed to be a statue, and her unblinking stare, focused straight ahead, was so chillingly unlike the warm brown eyes they both knew so well.

"Why her?" Harry asked softly. "Why did it have to be Maya?"

"It's obvious, isn't it?" Draco replied bitterly. "She knew something. I wish I knew _what_ she knew, but whatever it is, it was obviously too much." He hesitantly reached out towards Hermione's left hand, which was the closest part of her to him, and flinched when he came in contact with her fingers. Her skin was ice cold.

"We can't let this happen again, Harry," he said quietly. The bitterness was gone, replaced by cold determination. "Lotte figured it out, I know she did, and now it's up to us to finish what she started. The Mandrakes are nowhere near ready, so the heir could attack half the school if we wait until they all wake up to do something."

"Drake, I get it," Harry said calmly, "and I agree with you. Maya wouldn't want us to give up; she'd want us to stay strong and fight. And we will – for her." He reached over and squeezed his brother's shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting gesture, then leaned down by the bed and picked up Hermione's book bag.

"I'll take this back up to Gryffindor Tower – no sense leaving it here, I'm sure she wouldn't want it left out where anyone could get to it. Better yet, I'll leave it in the Room of Requirement. Maybe she left some sort of clue in it – she told me she had to run up to the library before the Quidditch game. Just this once, I don't think she'd mind if I went through her stuff."

"No, we definitely need to," Draco agreed. "It would be extremely foolish not to, actually."

"You coming with?" Harry asked. Draco shook his head.

"Not now," he said. "I need some time to process this before I go diving into anything else." Harry seemed to understand and nodded.

"Yeah, I think I do too." He paused. "Are you gonna be ok?" Draco frowned.

"My best friend is lying in the hospital wing as if dead, what do you think?" he said sarcastically.

"Draco, I'm just as upset about this as you are, and that's not what I meant," Harry snapped. Draco bit back an angry retort – as much as he wanted to snap right back, he knew his brother was right. The three of them were all close.

"I'm sorry," he said, "that was out of line. What did you mean?"

"It's alright," Harry sighed. "I have a feeling this is gonna be tough for both of us. What I meant was, Hermione's no ordinary victim – she's a Gryffindor, top of her class, and best friends with us. Don't you think the Slytherins will have something to say about that?"

"Oh, I'm definitely anticipating some interesting reactions from my dear housemates," Draco said. "If there's one thing I know, it's that some Slytherins will do absolutely anything to bring their enemies down. However, I think I've decided something."

"What's that?" Harry wanted to know.

"I've decided it's time to exploit the hierarchy of Slytherin House," his brother replied. "We determined a while ago that I'm formidable to most, if not all of them just based on who I am."

"Well, sure," Harry agreed. "You're connected to two of Wizarding Britain's most prominent pureblood families and set to inherit what's probably one of the largest fortunes in all of Wizarding Europe – if I wasn't your friend, I'd be a bit intimidated."

"Surprisingly enough, that's exactly what I'm going for," Draco said. "I didn't get put in Slytherin just for the fun of it – I can give as well as I get, and I think it's time my housemates get a taste of their own medicine."

"Just…be careful, yeah?" Harry cautioned. "I don't think Hermione'd like it very much if I had to explain how you'd been stabbed in your sleep." Draco smirked.

"Have you forgotten already?" he asked. "I'm a Black…and a Malfoy. You don't mess with _either_ of those families and get away with it, never mind _both._ You also forget that I spent the first four years of my life in Malfoy Manor – my family is the master of secrets, so while I might've left at a young age, I still learned a thing or two."

"True, very true," Harry agreed. "Just be careful. I'm gonna head out – Ginny should hear about this from me, not through the grapevine. I'll let you know if I find anything in Hermione's bag, and I'll keep my parchment on me."

"Sounds good," Draco said. The brothers briefly embraced before Harry cast one last glance at Hermione and left the room.

Draco stayed in the hospital wing for another fifteen minutes after Harry had gone. There wasn't much point, seeing as Hermione wasn't in any state to talk, but he wanted to collect his thoughts before he returned to the dungeons. If he were to betray how much the attack on Hermione was really getting to him, he'd face ridicule, which he could brush aside, but also possible danger, as many of the Slytherins viewed Draco's friendship with Hermione as nothing short of high treason to his very blood. Therefore, there was only one option, but it wasn't going to be easy. He hadn't had to so actively play the role of a Slytherin since he was four years old – sure, he'd been rather good at it then, as all Malfoys were, but was he still good enough to beat his housemates at their own game?

"There's only one way to find out," he said to himself. He squeezed Hermione's hand once more, whispered, "We're coming, Lotte," and quickly left the ward. He was about to begin the performance of his life.

* * *

The news about the latest attack spread through the school like wildfire, although it took a while before the student body came to a consensus regarding who was the monster's latest victim. By the end of dinner, however, almost everyone knew that Hermione Granger had been Petrified. Draco ignored the snickers and pointed looks some of the Slytherins were shooting his way and ate his potatoes as if he had no idea what was going on. He cut his roast methodically and chewed every piece thoroughly – his goal was to leave dinner on the tail of a large group, as leaving early might cause suspicion. Finally, a number of students rose to leave the hall, and Draco followed, munching on a chocolate biscuit as he made his way back to the common room. Once there, he grabbed his bag from his dormitory and settled into a chair near the fire to finish his History of Magic essay.

Draco had been working diligently for fifteen minutes or so when Theodore Nott burst into the room, looking excited.

"Did you hear?" he asked nobody in particular. "The attack today – it was Granger! Stupid Mudblood finally got what she deserved!" A few people laughed, but Draco didn't even glance at his roommate. Completely ignoring one's opponent was the first rule to successfully masking one's emotions, and in Draco's case, winning this battle.

"Malfoy, did you hear me?" Nott asked, his voice carrying. Draco finally looked up, acting surprised.

"Oh, was that directed at me?" he asked.

"Of course it was," Nott scoffed. "Granger's your little pet, isn't she? I thought you'd be weeping hysterically at her current state – of course, I think I would've preferred it if the heir had just finished her off, she's so damn annoying, but I'll take what I can get. I can't stand the jumped-up little brat."

"Hmm…" Draco tapped his chin with his quill, looking pensive. "You've got quite the comprehensive list of names for her, Nott – if I've got them all, she's a 'stupid jumped-up annoying little Mudblood brat'…did I get that right?" Draco _hated_ the feeling of that awful word as it rolled off his tongue, especially with regards to his Lotte, but he had to use it if he was going to pull this off.

"Very good, very good," Nott said approvingly. "You've a fine memory." Draco thought again.

"What, Nott, would you say is ten times worse than a 'stupid jumped-up annoying little Mudblood brat'?" he asked. Nott raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"I'm not entirely sure," he said. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, it's just that Hermione Granger is ten times the person you'll ever be, so I was wondering how you might refer to yourself, if that colorful string is your choice for her," Draco replied. He didn't even deign to look at Nott as he spoke, instead focusing on his essay as if he'd merely commented on the weather – granting Nott eye contact would imply some level of respect, and _that_ certainly wasn't going to happen.

"Why, you little-"

"Ah, ah, ah," Draco cautioned, waving his quill at Nott in as scolding a way as he could manage. "Do you really want to finish that thought, Nott? There are impressionable young children present, after all." He gestured with the quill towards a group of first-years, who were definitely close enough to listen in on their conversation if they cared to – and considering that half the common room seemed to be doing exactly that, Draco wouldn't have been surprised if the first-years were too. Nott ground his teeth.

"Listen here, _Malfoy,"_ he spat, "just because your little golden girl got Petrified doesn't mean you can just waltz in here like you own the place. You're still the lowest of the low – your family would be ashamed of how far you've sunk."

"Ah, but that is where you're wrong," Draco countered. "You see, if I'd _truly_ done something unworthy of a Malfoy, I would've been disowned – it's happened plenty of times before, so I don't doubt my parents would've carried on the tradition. However, the last time I checked, my mother willingly – _willingly – _entrusted me to a Muggle-born's care. You're not really going to question the will of Narcissa Black, are you?" He kept his nonchalant air as he spoke, adding just a touch of condescending arrogance for effect. It seemed to be working – Nott was now mouthing wordlessly.

"What do you think you're playing at?" Pansy Parkinson hissed venomously. She'd been watching the exchange with her roommates and had crept closer to perch on the arm of a nearby leather sofa. Draco turned his attention to her, smirking slightly.

"Pansy, Pansy, Pansy," he said, shaking his head at her. "Your mother is a proper lady, is she not?" He only vaguely remembered Mrs. Parkinson, but he knew she came from a fine, upstanding family. There was no way his statement was inaccurate.

"Of course she is," Pansy snapped. "What's my mother got to do with this?"

"Oh, nothing much," Draco replied casually. "I'm just wondering how she'd react if she knew how her daughter was treating the heir to the Malfoy fortune, that's all."

If Draco were honest with himself, he couldn't care less how Pansy treated him – he didn't like her either – but he knew that pointing out such a flaw was bound to have an effect, and he instantly knew he'd hit the jackpot. Pansy blanched before turning a vivid shade of scarlet, her expression almost scared. Draco knew enough about pureblood customs, including social hierarchies and how to treat people accordingly, to know that Pansy would definitely have been taught to respect the upper echelons of Wizarding society, including those bearing the Malfoy surname. Such lessons were essential to ensure that pureblooded young ladies were able to make a good match later on, and Pansy's mother, Draco knew, would want her only daughter to marry well. Her blatant lack of manners to someone from such a prominent family was a serious societal blunder.

"Need I remind you both," he asked quietly, "that you can say all you want, but I am still the _legitimate_ heir to _everything_ related to the Malfoy name? You would do well to remember that – getting on my bad side would be a _very _bad idea." He paused and smirked. "Then again, you both did that a long time ago – not much I can do about that, I'm afraid." Without another word, Draco gathered up his things and headed off to his dormitory, whispers from the shocked Slytherins following him as he went. He grinned in satisfaction when he realized that not all of the comments he was hearing were derogatory – in fact, many of his housemates seemed to be in awe of his little display.

Draco put his completed essay in his bag and quickly changed into his pajamas before flopping onto his bed with a sigh. That had been easy – almost _too _easy. He was either more of a Slytherin than he'd originally thought, or he had an excellent memory of his childhood teachings – either way, he wasn't quite sure how he felt about it.

"We do anything we can to achieve our goals, and my goal is to finish what Lotte started," he said to himself. "If I have to play my part convincingly, so be it. I'll probably have to do it again if this war picks back up anyway, so it can't hurt to practice." With that final thought, he pulled his four-poster's curtains shut, rolled over, and went to sleep.

* * *

**A/N: A little look at Draco's Slytherin side...took me a while to get this chapter where I wanted it - sorry about that. Hope it's ok.**

**Thank you so much for the follows/faves/reviews! They make me happy.**

**JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R&R, & enjoy! (Et si vous êtes français, bon Jour de la Bastille!) :)**


	13. Finally Getting Some Answers

To Draco's immense satisfaction, his little display in the common room seemed to have worked – neither Nott nor Pansy had yet come up with any sort of satisfactory response, and as they were the ringleaders of the unofficial 'antagonize Draco Black' movement, the rest of the Slytherins left him alone as well. In fact, a fair number of Draco's fellow Snakes actually seemed somewhat impressed, and they began according him a certain level of respect for finally embracing the role they felt he ought to have played from the start. Their acceptance certainly made things a bit easier – they were much more hesitant to mutter derogatory things about Hermione in his presence, as if they were afraid of how Draco might retaliate – but at the same time, it was exhausting. Draco had proven quite adept at playing the role of Slytherin's prince, but he hadn't forgotten his housemates' very recent, very different attitude towards him, and he refused to delude himself into thinking that everything was suddenly rainbows and butterflies. Getting to the top was easy – staying there was much harder.

Draco decided that the best way to distract himself from recent events was to throw himself wholeheartedly into discovering Hermione's secret. He was convinced that she'd solved at least part of the mystery and was determined to finish what she'd started – if nothing else, they needed to get rid of the monster to ensure that the victims weren't at risk for repeat attacks once they'd been revived. An announcement the morning after the cancelled Quidditch match, however, threw a serious wrench into his plans.

"All students will return to their common rooms immediately after dinner every evening, no exceptions," Snape read in his usual bored drawl as he addressed the gathered Slytherins. "All students will be escorted to and from lessons by a teacher, and no students are to roam the halls without teacher or prefect supervision. All extracurricular activities are henceforth postponed. These restrictions are effective immediately and will remain in place until further notice." Everyone knew that 'until further notice' translated to 'until the Heir of Slytherin is caught and the attacks are stopped'.

As soon as Snape left the common room, Draco hurried off to grab his charmed parchment:

_Hey – do you have Lotte's bag with you, or did you leave it in the RoR?_

_No, it's in Ginny's dorm room,_ Harry replied a few minutes later. _Why?_

_Did McGonagall tell the Gryffindors about the new restrictions?_

_Yeah – no more Quidditch, and we have to go everywhere with a teacher, among other things. Basically we're confined like sheep until this whole mess resolves itself._

_We can't meet in the RoR anymore – we can't be out after dinner, and our breaks are too short to head up there, _Draco scribbled as quickly as he could, _but we need to find out what, if anything, Lotte knew. Do you think you could go through her bag and see if you can find anything, and if you do, can you send me a copy? It's the best alternative I can think of to actually working on it together._

_Yeah, definitely,_ Harry said. _I'll take a look through it tonight and see what I can find._

* * *

Draco was rewarded by the arrival of Berenice at breakfast on Monday morning, a wad of parchment clutched in her talons.

"Good girl," he said softly, stroking her feathers and offering her a slice of bacon. Berenice hooted in thanks, accepted the bacon, and took off to the Owlery. Draco tucked the parchment carefully into his bag and spent the rest of the day distracted. What had Harry found?

He finally got a chance to open the letter after dinner – his roommates were all in the common room, so he took advantage of the empty dormitory and settled himself onto his bed, crisscrossing his legs under him as he opened the parchment.

The parchment he revealed actually looked to be a page torn from a book, and words in what he recognized as Hermione's neat handwriting coated the margins. The words turned out to be a bunch of names, most of which Draco didn't recognize, so he turned his attention to the printed text. Hermione had circled a few phrases in a passage about some witch called Angela Westerman, thickly underlining a sentence about the woman's memory loss. Draco looked at Hermione's handwritten additions again and noticed that each of the four names she'd written had a magical creature next to it – yeti, ghoul, werewolf, and hag. The odd set seemed to go together in some way, but he couldn't decide how, so he set the first piece of parchment aside.

The second page was all Hermione's handwriting, and Draco realized it was a list of everything they knew about the Chamber of Secrets monster:

_1.__Spiders are afraid of it._

_2.__Monster is afraid of roosters? Roosters can kill it? Something about roosters_

_3.__Can somehow Petrify people (and apparently animals too – Mrs. Norris)_

_4.__Can somehow move around without being seen – either is very small or very clever_

_5.__Connected to Slytherin – how?_

It was the last item on this list that made Draco pause – why hadn't they thought of it before? Obviously Salazar Slytherin wouldn't have chosen just any old creature to guard his chamber – it would be something of significance to him, maybe something that symbolized what he stood for. Draco's immediate thought was the symbol of Slytherin House itself – a serpent. Slytherin handpicked the students in his house, and according to what Hermione had read to them from _Hogwarts, A History,_ he'd been rather vocal about his dislike of Muggle-borns. Was it so far-fetched to think that the monster in the chamber might be the same as that chosen to represent the one house where Muggle-borns weren't welcome? Was it so ludicrous to think that the monster might be some sort of snake? Draco resolved to check out a book on serpents the first chance he got – at this point, any lead was worth investigating.

* * *

Meanwhile, Harry was not having a fun evening. He'd gotten into a spot of trouble when he'd distractedly added the wrong ingredient during Potions class and caused his concoction to explode. Snape had reprimanded him thoroughly for his carelessness before assigning him detention, and as a result, Harry was currently hard at work polishing the objects in the trophy room. He'd been buffing and shining dozens of objects for nearly two hours now, and his arm was dreadfully sore, but he still had two shelves' worth of awards to finish before his task would be complete. He sighed as he picked up a Special Award for Services to the School – there weren't many of these, but the shields were large, similar in size to those carried by the Hogwarts suits of armor, so polishing each one to a shine was a lengthy task.

After two shields sat sparkling in their places once more, Harry paused to wipe sweat from his brow. Just a few more, and then he'd be free. He applied fresh polish to his cloth and reached for the third award, settling himself on the floor in an effort to make himself a little more comfortable. As he scrubbed, he contemplated Hermione's notes, which he'd been poring over ever since he'd found them. The names and creatures Hermione had scrawled on the book's page sounded incredibly familiar, but he'd yet been able to place them, and it was driving him crazy.

Harry's thoughts abruptly left Hermione's notes when he noticed the name engraved on the shield in his lap, which had previously been hidden under layers of grime and was now shining brightly in the candlelight:

_Tom Marvolo Riddle_

_Voldemort_ had gotten a Special Award for Services to the School? What on earth had he done to deserve that?

Harry's attention was drawn to the date on the shield: June of 1943. Something clicked then, and Harry nearly dropped the award in shock.

June 1943. Fifty years ago. Tom from the diary…Tom the Slytherin…Tom Riddle.

Harry finished the rest of his polishing as quickly as his aching arm would allow and raced back to Gryffindor Tower the instant he'd been dismissed. The diary had disappeared shortly after they'd seen the memory – Harry suspected he'd dropped it somewhere – but he didn't need to have the diary to make the connection. Tom Riddle had framed Hagrid, and Tom Riddle had most likely been the real culprit. It could prove to be a vital clue.

* * *

When Harry relayed his discovery to his brother, Draco became even more convinced that his theory involving the monster was a good one. The Dark Mark even contained a snake – if that wasn't a salute to Voldemort's Slytherin ties, Draco didn't know what it was. It was a frustratingly long time before he found himself able to peruse the library's magical creatures section, however – he'd been to the library almost a dozen times since Hermione's attack, but all of those excursions had been supervised by a teacher, and none of the things they were researching were anywhere near the section Draco needed. Finally, however, he got his chance when they had to write an essay on banshees for Lockhart, and he found himself carting three extra volumes back to the Slytherin dormitories. Although he didn't know it, one of the books was _Birds and Beasts of Magical Britain,_ the same book Hermione had been intending to read before she was attacked. After two days of thoroughly searching the other two books and coming up with nothing, Draco turned to _Birds and Beasts of Magical Britain,_ and it was in this book that he finally found his answer. His eyes widened as he scanned the entries for a number of different serpents, stopping at one in particular. The circumstances for this particular creature's existence were so odd, but their seemingly random clues all fit, and it was a more than formidable representation of Slytherin's mascot. The only problem was how such a beast could move about the school undetected, but Draco would worry about that later – there was no way there was a second magical creature out there that frightened spiders and fled from roosters. He quickly duplicated the page, circled the passage, and scrawled a short message at the bottom:

_Harry – I think this is our monster._

* * *

Harry and Draco were pleased with themselves for uncovering the secrets of the diary and of Slytherin's monster, but their problems were far from over. First and foremost, just because they'd discovered _what_ was in the chamber didn't mean they were any closer to getting rid of it – they didn't even know where the chamber was. Second, they still couldn't make heads or tails of Hermione's other notes, the ones involving Angela Westerman and the other wizards. A little bit of research had taught them that all of the people on the list had suffered from severe memory loss, but they had yet to find anything else connecting them together, and it was proving frustrating. Hermione wouldn't have called attention to that information if it wasn't important.

"Harry," Draco said one day as they enjoyed the late spring sunshine in the courtyard during break, "who was the Muggle-born who died the last time the chamber was opened?"

"I have no idea," Harry replied. "Why on earth would you want to know that?" Draco shrugged.

"Dunno," he said. "I just thought maybe if we knew who it was, it might give us another hint, that's all."

"That's not a bad idea," Harry mused, "but how do you suggest we find out? We can't just ask a teacher – they'd want to know why, as they're all suspicious of anything related to the chamber these days."

"Very true." Draco was quiet for a moment, his expression one of deep thought. "What if we asked one of the portraits? Or better yet, a ghost? Some of them have been here for hundreds of years, they're bound to know something."

"Now you're talking," Harry nodded approvingly. "Let's see if we can catch one of them before the bell rings, yeah?" The two boys quickly hurried inside and began searching the corridors. They only had a few minutes before break was over, and they planned to take advantage of those few minutes before they'd be forced back under the watchful eyes of their professors. It wasn't long before a familiar ghost came into view.

"Nick – hey, Nick!" Harry called. Nearly-Headless Nick turned and smiled brightly when he recognized the Gryffindor.

"Mr. Potter!" he said jovially. "To what do I owe this honor?"

"I just had a quick question for you, one that I'm hoping you can answer," Harry replied honestly. "I'm sure you've heard all about this Chamber of Secrets business?"

"Of course," Nick said solemnly. "I was very sorry to hear about your friend."

"Yeah – it's been hard." Harry sighed and was quiet for a minute as he thought of Hermione – it had been over two months since she'd been Petrified, but the passage of time didn't make it any easier. Once he'd gathered his thoughts, he said, "I'd heard that someone died the last time the chamber was opened – do you happen to know who the victim was?"

"As a matter of fact, I do," Nick said, a note of hesitation in his voice. "She doesn't really like to talk about it though – she's a bit sensitive."

"You mean – the girl who died is a ghost too?" Harry asked, looking surprised. He wasn't expecting them to be _that_ lucky…

"Yes, she is," Nick said. "She's still here, in fact – it might be better if you go talk to her instead."

"Nick, who is she?" Harry repeated. It'd be rather difficult to find the right ghost without a name…

"I can't tell you outright – I'd like to respect her privacy, you know," Nick said gently. "But I think I've told you enough about her that you can figure it out yourself." He started to float away but then turned and addressed him one last time. "I know your intentions are noble, Mr. Potter, and I wish you all the best of luck. I really do hope she'll help you – just be careful how you phrase your questions." With that final warning, he was gone.

"Now what?" Draco asked.

"Now, we think," Harry answered. "What ghost do we know that fits what Nick just told us? The victim was female…she's sensitive…she doesn't like the fact that she's dead…"

"Wait a second," Draco interrupted his brother's mutterings. "Could it possibly be Myrtle?"

* * *

**A/N: Thanks so much for all the follows/faves/reviews!**

**Not too much action in this chapter, but it's necessary for moving forward - hope you like it anyway. JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R&R, & enjoy! :)**


	14. More Answers, and More Trouble

Harry stared into nothing for several long moments as if contemplating Draco's idea.

"I…don't see why not," he finally said, still looking thoughtful. "I mean, I don't think I know all the ghosts around here, but she's the only one I can think of who's young enough…and from what Hermione said about her personality, she certainly fits the bill…"

"But how are we going to talk to her?" Draco wondered. "Security's so tight now – it's not like one of us can just sneak off – plus it'd be really hard to explain if we got caught hanging around a girls' bathroom again. We already tried that last year, and you know how that ended." Silence fell once more as their minds wandered to thoughts of mountain trolls, and the bell rang to signal the end of break.

"Guess we'll have to figure that part out later," Harry said with a shrug. "If you come up with an idea, I say just go for it if you can – it might be the only chance we get."

The boys traded ideas on how to talk to Myrtle via charmed parchment all afternoon, but each proposal just seemed weaker than the last. The best one they'd come up with so far was Harry suggesting that Ginny could do it, since she was perfectly free to venture into that particular bathroom, but even that solution had a major flaw: how to get Ginny in there in the first place. Harry and Draco suspected that interrogating Myrtle was probably going to take a fair bit longer than it took the average person to use the loo and would therefore cause suspicion on the part of whichever professor or prefect was playing escort. No, their only viable option was to sneak in and hope they weren't caught.

Their chance came much sooner than expected. Professor Lockhart, who'd been voicing his thoughts on the new security measures all week, decided that walking the second-year Slytherins to their Charms lesson wasn't worth his time, and he left the group alone halfway to their destination.

"Honestly, do they really think the heir's going to strike while _I'm _around?" Lockhart asked. "It's only a matter of time before he realizes I know all about him and goes into hiding for good!" Draco tried not to roll his eyes at the incompetent professor's dramatics, and as soon as Lockhart was out of sight, he slipped quietly away from the group and down the hall that led to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Checking quickly to ensure he was alone, Draco ignored the bathroom's 'Out of Order' sign and stepped inside.

The room certainly looked as if it had seen better days – every one of the sinks was cracked or chipped, and paint was peeling off the walls in places. If Draco didn't know any better, he'd think the Hogwarts staff was actively encouraging girls to stay away from this place.

_"You're_ not a girl."

Draco nearly jumped out of his skin, whirling around to face the voice. Its owner proved to be a young girl, not all that much older than he by the looks of her. Her dark hair hung in two long ponytails that tumbled across her shoulders, and she had a pair of thick glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. Her Hogwarts robes looked a tad outdated, her expression was rather dreary…and she was _transparent._

"Are you Myrtle?" Draco asked, crossing his fingers that he was right and hoping the ghost wouldn't take offense at his sudden intrusion.

"Perhaps," she replied, her expression changing to one of mild curiosity. "Who are you?" Her eyes caught sight of the emblem on his chest, and she frowned.

"You're a Slytherin," she said distastefully. "Whatever would a Slytherin want with a lowly Mudblood?"

"No, no, no, hear me out, please," Draco implored her. Damn – he hadn't thought of that, had he?

"I am indeed a Slytherin, but I just want to talk to you," he said. "And don't call yourself that, please."

"Why not?" Myrtle snorted. "It's what those nasty snakes always called me, isn't it?"

"Myrtle, my best friend is a Muggle-born – not all of us follow the stereotypes, you know. That's a disgusting word, and you shouldn't be degrading yourself by using it." Myrtle was silent for a moment, and Draco was afraid he'd overstepped his boundaries. From the little he knew of this ghost, he definitely didn't want to be around if she suddenly threw a temper tantrum. To his relief, she merely spoke again.

"I'll give you five minutes," she said, floating up to rest on the windowsill and crossing her legs. "What was it you wanted to say?"

"How…" Draco paused, knowing there were very few ways to voice his question and unsure of how she'd react to any of them. He finally just decided to be direct. "How did you die, Myrtle?" To his surprise, Myrtle didn't scream or cry – instead, she puffed herself up importantly and looked rather pleased.

"You know you're the first person who's ever asked me that?" she said, looking almost happy. "I remember it like it was yesterday, of course, even though it was fifty years ago – Olive Hornby was teasing me about my glasses again, and I was in here, having a good cry, when I heard someone come in. The person started speaking, and I realized it was a _boy_, so I came out to tell him to go find his own bathroom…and that was it. I saw a pair of huge yellow eyes over there, and the next thing I knew, I was floating."

Draco hurried to the sink Myrtle had pointed to when she mentioned the eyes. When he took a closer look, he saw a tiny snake engraved on the side of the tap. It couldn't be…

"That sink's never worked, even when I was alive it was broken," Myrtle said.

"Fifty years ago?" Draco repeated.

"Yes – it was the thirteenth of June, 1943," the ghost said matter-of-factly. "The end of my third year, if you were wondering."

"I wasn't, but thank you," Draco replied. "Seriously, Myrtle, you've been a huge help."

"Of course," she replied sweetly. Draco tried not to cringe as Myrtle graced him with what she obviously thought was a charming smile – he wasn't a mean person, but even he could see why Myrtle would've been a target for bullies at Hogwarts. She was just so…_awkward._

"I should really get going – I'm supposed to be in Charms any minute – but thanks again for your help!" Draco said. He slung his bag over his shoulder, checked that the coast was clear, and was just congratulating himself on solving another piece of the puzzle when…

"Mr. Black! Just what do you think you're doing?"

Draco gulped as he turned to face Professor McGonagall. She was definitely one of the stricter teachers, and deputy headmistress to boot – he'd have to think fast if he was going to get out of this one unscathed.

"I…I'm sorry, Professor," he said, his face flushing slightly at having been caught. "I know I should be in class right now, but it's been so long…"

"What were you doing, Mr. Black?" Professor McGonagall asked again, sounding rather impatient.

"I was going to see Lot-Hermione," Draco replied quietly, the blush darkening rapidly as he realized he'd almost slipped up and used her nickname. "I know it's kind of pointless, seeing as she's Petrified, but…" he trailed off, unable to finish the sentence without embarrassing himself even further. The Scottish witch's expression softened a bit.

"I understand," she said. "This whole affair has definitely been hardest on those closest to the victims. It is, as you said, rather pointless, but if it would make you feel better, I'll take you the rest of the way to the hospital wing, and I'll let Professor Flitwick know you'll be a bit late."

"Thank you, Professor," Draco said gratefully. Professor McGonagall sent a Patronus to Flitwick before escorting him upstairs.

"I'll only be a few minutes, I think," Draco said as he stepped into the ward. Professor McGonagall went to explain his presence to Madam Pomfrey, and the young Slytherin took a seat next to Hermione's bed. Squeezing her hand gently – it was still so _cold_ – he proceeded to inform her of their progress in hushed tones, talking about everything from the monster to Myrtle.

"We're still stuck on the clue you left us about Angela Westerman, but we're making progress," he said. "We just wish you were here to help us – we miss you so much. _I_ miss you so much." He carefully brushed a stray curl from Hermione's face. "We'll get you out of here soon, Lotte – I promise," he whispered. With one last glance at his frozen friend, Draco signaled to Professor McGonagall that he was ready to leave.

* * *

Draco and Harry sat side by side on the low stone wall in the courtyard, talking quietly. It had been a week since Draco's conversation with Myrtle, and the two boys had decided that the exchange confirmed two things: one, that Myrtle was the monster's victim, and two, that the monster was a basilisk. Draco had suspected as much when he'd found the passage on the rare serpents in _Birds and Beasts of Magical Britain,_ but Myrtle's comment about the creature's eyes essentially confirmed it – anyone who looked a basilisk directly in the eye suffered instant death.

"How is it that none of the victims are dead, then?" Draco asked as he absentmindedly swung his legs back and forth, gently kicking the wall with his heels.

"I guess none of them looked directly at the snake," Harry replied. "There was all that water on the floor when Mrs. Norris was found – she could've easily seen the basilisk's reflection. Colin had his camera, and Hermione…" He paused and swallowed heavily. "That corridor near the library has a giant mirror on the wall."

"What about Justin and Hannah?"

"I'm not really sure – maybe they saw it through the stained glass windows? Their gazes were directed upwards."

"True. So it's really just a lot of lucky coincidences."

"Yeah."

"What d'you think of the course options for next year, then?" Draco asked, changing the subject. Starting in third year, Hogwarts students added electives to their schedules, and the Heads of House had left a number of informative pamphlets in the common rooms so that the second-years might peruse them over the Easter holidays. Many of their friends had written home asking for advice, and very few made their selections without at least talking to an older student or two.  
"I'm not sure what I'm going to take," Harry replied. "They all sound interesting in a way, although I dunno about Arithmancy – it's dead useful, but maths has never been my strong point."

"I haven't decided yet either," Draco said, "Although I think I'm going to take Care of Magical Creatures – I've heard that's a good one. I think we can take up to three – Muggle Studies seems kind of pointless, since we live next door to the Grangers and live mostly like Muggles ourselves, but the others all seem like good choices. It'll be hard to pick."

"What do you think Hermione will pick?"

"Not really sure – but she'll definitely have just as hard a time as we are," Draco said. "Why? She's not exactly here at the moment."

"No," Harry agreed, "but McGonagall gave me her checklist to hold onto for now. She suggested that since we know her so well, we might be able to make an educated guess – they have to start preparing the upper years' timetables early so that there aren't any scheduling conflicts and so that everyone gets the classes they want."

"In that case, you should probably just put her down for everything for now," Draco suggested. "I don't know what McGonagall told the Gryffindors, but Snape told us it's a lot easier to take someone out of a class than it is to add them in. I don't think Lotte would be too happy with us if she didn't get the one subject she really wanted just because we didn't sign her up for it."

"Fair point," Harry acknowledged. "I'll just put her down for everything, and then she can sort it out herself when she wakes up."

* * *

One afternoon in early June, Harry was just finishing his Transfiguration essay when Professor McGonagall's magically magnified voice echoed throughout the castle:

"All students are to return to their dormitories immediately. All teachers please report to the staff room."

Curious as to what was going on, Harry hastily put his things back in his dormitory before returning to the common room, which was already beginning to fill with confused Gryffindors. The room was soon crowded, but nobody dared move – after an announcement like that, they knew Professor McGonagall would be along shortly to talk to them.

"Do you think somebody else has been attacked?" Neville asked Harry.

"I hope not," Harry replied, thoughts of what he knew about the basilisk flying around his head. Draco was right – so far, the victims had all been very lucky. It was foolish to think that another could follow their lead.

"Any ideas?" Ginny asked as she joined them.

"Nope," Neville replied. "Best we can do is wait, I guess."

The house-elves brought up sandwiches around six, and it wasn't until dinner had vanished completely that Professor McGonagall finally made an appearance. She seemed badly shaken.

"I'm afraid I have some very bad news," she said. "A student has been taken into the chamber by the monster. The Hogwarts Express will be taking you all home in the morning, and unless we can figure out who's behind this and stop them, it might very well be your last trip from Hogsmeade Station."

Harry's heart dropped to somewhere in the vicinity of his stomach – Hogwarts was closing? It couldn't be true, it couldn't…

"I'm sorry, I really am, but I don't see any other way around it," Professor McGonagall said sadly. "I must ask you to remain in Gryffindor Tower until tomorrow morning – Hogwarts is no longer safe." She paused and breathed deeply through her nostrils. "Weasleys, could I speak with you for a moment?" Ginny gave Harry a confused look before following her brothers and McGonagall out of the portrait hole.

As soon as their Head of House was gone, the Gryffindor students erupted into conversation.

"Who do you think was taken?"

"I can't believe Hogwarts is closing!"

"Do you think they have _any_ idea who's behind it all?"

Similar sentiments raced around the common room like ripples on the lake, but nobody seemed to be able to reach any solid conclusions. All eyes were glued to the portrait hole when it opened several minutes later, admitting the Weasley children, who looked to be in shock.

"Gin?" Harry asked. "What's wrong? What did McGonagall want?" Ginny looked up at him, her brown eyes wide.

"Harry," she said quietly, "take a good look around. Who's missing?"

"Missing?" Harry slowly scanned the common room, and his eyes widened to match Ginny's when he realized just what she meant. "You don't mean…"

"Yes, yes I do," she whispered, her eyes beginning to water. "Ron was the one who was taken."

* * *

**A/N: Dun dun dun...are we ready for a trip to the chamber, then? I suspect I'll only need 2 or 3 more chapters to finish up this installment, then it's on to book 3! **

**As always, thank you so much for the follows/faves/reviews! JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R&R - I love hearing your thoughts - & enjoy! :)**


	15. I've Been Expecting You

It took Harry a full thirty seconds to process what Ginny had said, and when he had, it was another thirty before he could speak.

"R-Ron?" he repeated.

"Yeah," Ginny said, nodding her head to emphasize the point and then sniffing slightly. She shuddered violently. "I don't know what's going on, Harry, and I'm scared."

"Hey, it's alright," he said softly, closing the gap between them and giving her what he hoped was a comforting squeeze. "We all are."

"But what are we going to do?" Harry stared at her for a moment.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"What are we going to do?" Ginny repeated. The budding tears had vanished and been replaced by hard resolve. "I _know_ you and Draco have figured out more than you've told me so far. Catch me up to speed, and we'll go from there."

Harry thought about it for a moment. Despite the occasional moment of recklessness, Ginny was a fairly levelheaded person, and she'd been there every step of the way so far, not only aiding the trio in their investigations throughout the year, but also growing closer to them until she was a seamless part of their group. She was Hermione's best Gryffindor girlfriend, Harry knew, as neither girl really fit in with their respective roommates, and both he and Draco enjoyed her company as well. Yes, Ginny was a good enough friend that she deserved to know what was going on.

"Alright," he said, "let me fill you in." He led Ginny upstairs to his empty dormitory, not wanting to be overheard, and told her all about Draco's conversation with Myrtle, the diary and his revelation about its owner, and the basilisk. For her part, Ginny sat and listened attentively, letting him tell all he needed to before she said anything.

"And the only thing you couldn't figure out was the list of famous people?" Ginny repeated.

"No, we couldn't make heads or tails of that one," Harry confirmed. "I'm not even sure it has to do with the chamber, to be honest – all the people on Hermione's list disappeared in the '80s, which doesn't fall into the chamber timeline at all."

"Let's worry about that later, then," Ginny decided. "What are we going to do about the basilisk? That's not exactly something we can defeat with a wand, is it?"

"Probably not," Harry admitted, "but we've got to try – nobody else knows what it is, or _where_ it is. I'm almost positive the entrance to the chamber is in Myrtle's bathroom, behind or under that broken sink Draco mentioned. That would explain how the basilisk was getting around, too – from what I understand, the thing's huge, but it could probably travel through pipes easy enough."

"What about the staff?" Ginny asked. "We should probably tell someone, right?"

"Yeah, definitely – or we should try, anyway. We should probably just go down to the staff room and tell them what we know – we might get in trouble for being out of the common room when we shouldn't, but we know quite a lot that nobody else does, and if any of that information can help…"

"Exactly."

Harry quickly updated Draco via the parchment – _Be careful! I'd go with you if I could, but Snape's lurking around the common room so there's no way out of here,_ his brother replied – and they set off. The rest of the Gryffindors were still in shock, the news of the monster's latest victim having traveled through their ranks, and as such, nobody protested or even noticed when Harry and Ginny left through the portrait hole. They made it to the corridor housing the staff room without incident, but they halted just around the corner when they heard voices.

"I really – well, I think you misunderstood…"

"Honestly, Gilderoy, haven't you been saying all along that you know _exactly_ where the chamber is and what's inside it?" Professor Sprout asked.

"I…well what I meant by that…"

"And don't forget how much you said you wanted a chance to take down the monster!" Professor Flitwick chimed in. "Mentioned that it would make quite a good tale for your next book, didn't you?"

"Come now, did you really think-"

"It's settled," Professor McGonagall interrupted. "The students are all in their common rooms for the night, and the staff will gladly stay out of your way. You asked for your chance, Gilderoy, and now you've got it."

The sound of many shuffling feet told the two Gryffindors that the rest of the staff had just dispersed, leaving no one to listen to Lockhart's continuing protests.

"Lockhart's office," Harry whispered. "He's bound to go back there, and while he really isn't my first choice for this little trip, he'll come with us without asking too many questions – something tells me he wants the recognition badly enough to follow when he realizes we're telling the truth." They hurried to Lockhart's office via a shortcut behind a tapestry, and they only had to wait five minutes before the office's owner appeared, looking haggard and a little lost.

"I – my goodness, what are you two doing here?" Lockhart asked.

"We know where the Chamber of Secrets is, and what's inside it," Harry said without preamble. "We were coming to tell the staff when we overheard your little conversation, and we've come to help you."

"Come to help me?" Lockhart repeated. "My dear boy, you must be mistaken – I have no intention of going anywhere near the Chamber of Secrets! The things that are down there…" He shuddered dramatically. "And I really don't see how you could possibly know where the chamber is…"

"Professor, in the interest of time, please just accept that we might actually know how to help you and come with us," Ginny interrupted. "If there's any chance my brother's still alive, we need to go _now._ Besides, you're the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher – this is your _job,_ isn't it?"

"I…well, alright, then," Lockhart said, looking defeated and a little stunned at Ginny's forward comments. "Lead the way."

They made it to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom without meeting anyone, and Myrtle herself greeted them as they approached.

"I've never had so many strange visitors in such a short time," she remarked. "First it was that blonde boy who came to talk to me about a month ago, then the redhead…"

"Redhead?" Ginny interrupted eagerly. "Myrtle, what redhead was this?" Myrtle peered at her intently.

"Some relation of yours, I'd assume," she said, eyeing Ginny's own ginger locks intently. "He's been in here before, of course, but tonight was…odd. He seemed almost delusional, and weak – very weak. I offered to talk, but he didn't listen – people hardly ever do – and then he disappeared down the pipe. And just _what_ do you think _you're _doing?" she snapped suddenly, glaring at a spot behind the Gryffindors. They turned to find Lockhart with his wand drawn and pointed at them.

"Oh…n-nothing, of course!" he stammered, doing his best to look innocent, but Harry wasn't fooled.

"Trying to curse us while our backs were turned?" he hissed, raising his eyebrows. "That's awfully low, don't you think?" He reached out and snatched the professor's wand from his hand, pocketing it quickly, and turned back to Myrtle.

"What is this pipe you mentioned, Myrtle?" he asked.

"That one, of course." Myrtle pointed to the sink Draco had told him about…except the sink was no longer there. In its place was a hole large enough for a grown man to comfortably sit in, and the hole connected to a huge pipe that vanished into the darkness.

"The Chamber of Secrets," Ginny whispered. "It really exists."

"Of course it exists," Myrtle said impatiently. "I am _dead_, in case you've forgotten. Now, are you going in, or not?"

"We've come this far." Harry shrugged and gestured to Lockhart. "You first." Lockhart protested, but Harry all but shoved him into the pipe and out of sight.

"You reckon it's safe?" he asked Ginny once Lockhart was gone.

"Of course not," she scoffed. "There's a giant snake waiting down there for us. But we've made it this far, haven't we?" She hoisted herself into the tunnel, gave Harry a pointed look, and scooted herself forward until she too was careening down the slide.

"I'd tell you to be careful, but that's kind of pointless," Myrtle said bluntly. "Just know that if you die, you're welcome to share with me."

"Er…thanks, Myrtle," Harry replied, thoroughly uncomfortable with the dead girl's declaration. Quick as he could, he launched himself into the pipe.

The slide was slippery, wet, and smelled worse than Polyjuice Potion tasted. Harry didn't want to think about what exactly was dripping down the sides of the pipe, considering the entrance was in a bathroom – Salazar Slytherin was seriously messed up. Equally as unpleasant was the thought of what lay in wait at the bottom of the pipe, and Harry hoped the end of the slide brought him into something other than the main chamber – if a giant snake was going to eat him, he wanted time to at least prepare himself first.

Harry got his wish when he slid out of the pipe onto stone flooring and found himself in a sort of passageway. Ginny was standing there waiting for him, her wand trained on Lockhart, who was cowering like a kicked puppy. Harry drew his wand and mirrored Ginny's stance, and the trio set off down the tunnel, their footsteps echoing loudly no matter how hard they tried to dampen them. Lockhart nearly fainted dead away when they came across a gigantic snakeskin in a sickly shade of green, but the two students forced him to continue walking. Eventually, they reached a large door upon which was carved two intertwined serpents, their emerald eyes glittering eerily in the dim light. The door swung open at their approach, almost as if it was expecting them, and they stepped cautiously into the room.

"Any sign of movement, close your eyes," Harry warned them quietly.

"No need to tell me twice," Ginny whispered back, pausing to take in the sight before them. The stone chamber in which they found themselves was huge, the ceiling so high it was hard to make out, and gigantic columns rose upwards every few feet. They could hear the steady _drip, drip, drip_ of water somewhere, and green torches flickered in rusted brackets at intervals. The creepy firelight made everything seem like something it wasn't, transformed every shadow into a monster poised to strike. They crept forward carefully, keeping their eyes peeled for any sign of the basilisk, and soon reached the far end of the chamber, where the columns tapered off to leave an open space near the size of a Quidditch pitch. A stone statue of a man, his sharp features imposing and his long beard trailing almost to his feet, towered over them, and at the base of this statue were two people. The first was prostrate and unmoving, and the red hair and school uniform identified him as Ron Weasley. The second was leaning back against the statue's pedestal on his elbows, feet crossed at the ankles and looking for all the world like he was lounging at a casual get-together instead of standing in one of the most dangerous places in all of Hogwarts. Ginny had never seen him before, as she hadn't directly experienced the memory, but Harry recognized the handsome features and haughty expression immediately – it was Tom Riddle.

"Ah, Harry Potter," he said, smirking slightly. "Welcome – I've been expecting you."

* * *

**A/N: And here we go! Could very well have a second chapter up today - we'll see. If not, it'll be up soon. As always, thanks for the follows/faves/reviews - glad you guys are liking this so far! Big things coming up, so stay tuned.**

**JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please consider leaving a review, & I hope you enjoy! :)**


	16. Slytherin vs Gryffindor

Harry let out a sound akin to a growl.

"Been 'expecting me', Riddle?" he spat. "You really don't think I'm going to just accept that without an explanation."

"Of course," Riddle replied smoothly. "It would be rather rude of me to deny you the story – it's quite entertaining, you see."

"What have you done to Ron?" Ginny hissed, her eyes narrowed dangerously.

"What have _I_ done to Ron?" Riddle repeated. "Jumping to conclusions much, Miss Weasley? Your dear brother did this to himself – I just helped him along."

"What. Do. You. Mean?" Harry surreptitiously nudged Ginny's arm – the redheaded witch's temper was flaring, and he needed her to keep her head on straight.

"Shush," he said quietly. "Letting him get to you won't do you any good, you know that."

"Oh, isn't that sweet," Riddle said mockingly. "You might as well just let your little girlfriend stew – we're far from finished." He paused and shifted his weight, switching his legs so that his other ankle was crossed on top. "Now, this little story starts with something I think you're well acquainted with." With a sweep of his hand, he gestured towards the little black book lying at Ron's feet, which had hitherto gone unnoticed.

"Yes, I recognize it," Harry replied scathingly. "You tried to frame Hagrid with it. Why, I don't know, since your story certainly has some gaping holes in it."

"Oh, please," Riddle scoffed. "Who were they going to believe – Hagrid, who was constantly in trouble for trying to sneak dangerous and illegal creatures into the castle, or a model prefect who'd never before stuck his nose anywhere near trouble?" His dark eyes glittered maliciously and he smirked. "It wasn't all that hard to convince Headmaster Dippet that Hagrid was guilty – after all, Acromantulas are hardly gentle creatures."

"But someone suspected you," Harry guessed, "or you wouldn't have stopped, would you?"

"Of course I wouldn't have – I, who bear the blood of Salazar Slytherin himself" – he gestured towards the giant statue on which he was reclining – "had every intention of ridding the school of every last piece of Mudblood filth, just as Slytherin intended. But Dumbledore suspected me – never did trust me, the old fool."

"Dumbledore's not a fool," Ginny retorted. "He's damn smart for not trusting you, considering what you later became."

"Don't talk about what you don't understand, little girl," Riddle snapped. "Dumbledore is nothing more than a fool, and as he's headmaster this time around, it won't be long before someone decides he has to go – there have already been _so many_ attacks, and he's done _so much_ to fix the problem, after all."

"You can take Dumbledore away all you want, but he won't be truly gone – too many people here are loyal to him," Harry replied. "As long as those people are still here, he's still here. So unless you plan on killing off the entire school, I think you've got a problem."

"Oh, now I don't think there'll be a need for that," Riddle said calmly. "I can drive him out by fear alone – do you know who I _am_, Harry?"

"Yeah, yeah – you're Voldemort," Harry said dismissively. "Clever little rearranging of some letters, _Tom."_ Riddle looked almost disappointed.

"Very well," he said. "I see you're not to be intimidated – foolish children. But I do believe we were discussing the book." He crossed to Ron and picked up the diary, fanning its pages nonchalantly.

"Ron here has been writing to me all year – and _goodness,_ the tales he's been telling me. Constantly overshadowed by his older brothers…jealous of his only sister for so easily befriending Harry Potter when he had to work to make the boy's acquaintance and has hardly spoken to him this year…always under pressure but never receives any recognition when he does well because so many others have done it all already…shall I go on?"

Harry and Ginny looked at each other, speechless – had Ron really been feeling _that_ resentful?

"Oh, I assure you his feelings were genuine," Riddle said, putting voice to their thoughts. "It got dreadfully boring listening to him whine after a while, but he was dead useful – and _so easy_ to manipulate."

"No…" Ginny whispered.

"Oh, _yes,_" Riddle countered, his smirk widening. "Ronald Weasley has been opening the Chamber of Secrets all year – he wrote threatening messages on the walls, set the basilisk on three students and the caretaker's cat…"

"Four," Harry interrupted.

"Pardon?"

"Four students, not three," Harry said. "There are four students in the hospital wing."

"Ah, but Mr. Weasley wasn't the only one doing my dirty work." Here Riddle turned to stare at Lockhart, who'd been all but forgotten by Harry and Ginny. "Care to share your part in this little comedy, _Professor?"_ Lockhart let out a squeak of terror.

"I…I didn't…"

"Quiet," Riddle snapped. "Mr. Weasley here eventually began to have doubts – it's that horrid conscience you Gryffindors have – and tried to dispose of the diary. Obviously he didn't do a very good job of it, since the next person to pick it up was you, Potter."

"Yeah," Harry recalled. "It was just sitting on my trunk – Hermione thought it was mine."

"And while I was _very_ interested to meet you – I'm sure you understand why – you never wrote back after that one evening, and the diary was silent for quite some time, until a third person spoke to me." Harry and Ginny looked at Lockhart, who was white as a sheet.

_"You_ had the diary?" Harry asked.

"You have to understand…I thought it was…"

"I don't care what you thought it was!" Harry snapped. "What happened, Riddle?"

"Oh, I'm so glad you asked. Dear _Professor_ Lockhart here was immediately drawn to the diary – told me all sorts of interesting things – but the most interesting of all, I think, were tales of a certain bushy-haired Mudblood."

_"Don't_ call her that!" Harry shouted. "Do _not_ call Hermione that word – she's one of the most brilliant witches Hogwarts has ever seen, and she bloody well deserves that title!"

"I see," Riddle said softly. "In any case, your dear professor had quite a lot to say about this girl – and not all of it complimentary. It seems he felt she was too nosy for her own good – he was afraid she was going to expose his worst secret – so I offered him a way out."

"By allowing him to set the basilisk on her," Harry finished, clenching his teeth so hard his jaw was starting to hurt. He was livid, to say the very least. "So _convenient,_ when nobody knew who was behind it all."

"What is this horrible secret?" Ginny asked.

"Oh, I think I'll let him tell you that one for himself," Riddle said with a dark chuckle. "I can't keep all the fun for myself now, can I?"

"What's wrong with Ron?"

"Well, of course I couldn't just let him vent without getting something in return, could I? His words gave me strength – literally. The more he wrote the more of his energy, his strength, his very _soul_ he gave to me. Eventually, I knew it was time for the grand finale, and I called him down here. He barely had it in him to get here before he finally collapsed."

"He's not…" Ginny faltered, unable to finish her thought.

"No, he's not dead," Riddle assured her, "but he won't be alive for long. I am a mere memory of my sixteen-year-old self, but by the end of the night, all four of you will be dead, and I will be fully restored."

"Meaning there will be two of you, essentially, since your real self is still running around out there somewhere," Harry concluded. "Just what we need – isn't one of you bad enough?"

"Hardly," Riddle sneered.

"How did he get the diary in the first place?"

"Well, I wasn't expecting _anyone_ to get it, really – it was just a bonus that an old…_friend_ of mine who happens to know dear Ronald rather well decide to pass it along. He'll be rewarded nicely when this is all over."

"But you know, this little fantasy you've got going on is assuming we're just going to lay down and give up," Ginny noted. "Nice try, Riddle, but it's not happening."

"Speak for yourself," Lockhart mumbled.

"Shut up," the redhead snapped. "You have _no_ right to say anything right now, _Professor."_ Under her fierce glare, Lockhart trembled and fell silent.

"So…you really think two underage wizards and a wannabe celebrity stand a chance against Lord Voldemort?" Riddle asked quietly. Lockhart yelped, but Harry and Ginny merely rolled their eyes and leveled their wands at Riddle.

"So be it." He turned to the statue and hissed loudly. Neither knew what he was doing, but they had a good guess.

"Of course – he's a Parselmouth, remember?" Ginny muttered.

"Not good," Harry replied as they slowly backed away. Lockhart had already fled to a distant corner.

The statue's mouth opened wide, and they heard something sliding up from inside it. The basilisk was coming.

"Whatever you do, don't look at it!" Harry said frantically. Ginny nodded, looking scared but determined, and raised her wand.

The serpent was enormous – twenty feet at least, thicker than the thickest tree, its fangs dripping poisonous liquid that hissed and popped when it hit the stone floor. Riddle relayed a command to the basilisk, and it immediately started gliding through the room, no doubt hunting its prey.

Suddenly, a strange music filled the air, and Harry felt something soft collide with his head. Looking down, he realized it was the Sorting Hat.

"What on earth…" he murmured.

A shriek of pain met their ears, and the Gryffindors whirled towards the source of the commotion. They couldn't see the snake, but they could see its huge shadow, and some sort of bird was attacking its eyes. Its _eyes…_

"Ginny, it's blind!" Harry said quickly. "That bird blinded it for us!"

"No – kill them – _smell_ them!" Riddle shouted, momentarily too frustrated to notice that he'd switched to English. He growled, repeated the command in Parseltongue, and the snake began to move again, leaving large patches of blood in its wake as the crimson liquid poured from its eyes. Harry and Ginny were forced to separate as the monster slithered through the cavern. Its huge tail swept the Sorting Hat straight into Ginny's arms, and she yanked it onto her head, not knowing what else to do.

"Ouch!" She tore the hat off her head almost as quickly as she'd put it on, falling speechless when a shining blade fell into her lap. The sword was made of highly polished silver with glittering rubies worked into the hilt. In spite of its size, Ginny found she could lift it easily, and she took a second to admire it – it was a beautiful weapon.

"Ginny!" Harry yelled from somewhere across the room. "What are you doing?"

"I'm fine!" she shouted back. Riddle shrieked another command at the basilisk, and Ginny positioned herself behind a column, knowing that the monster would come her way any second. When she heard the telltale hiss, she leapt out from her hiding place with a fierce battle cry, slashing the basilisk across the nose with the sword as she did so. The snake reared, spitting angrily, and made to strike, but Ginny was much smaller and easily darted out of the way. Once, twice, three times she avoided the snake, but the fourth time was the charm. The snake's aim was true, and Ginny sliced off one of its enormous fangs before burying the sword to the hilt in the monster's throat. She wrenched the sword from the basilisk's carcass…and then she noticed the fang embedded in her own arm.

"Harry!" she shouted. Harry came running, took one look at the scene, and swore.

"You are _not_ going to die, Ginny Weasley!" he growled, ripping the fang from her arm. Ginny yelped in pain, her vision already starting to blur as the poison worked its way into her system.

"Oh, but she is, make no mistake," Riddle said darkly, glowering at the dead basilisk. "That basilisk has been around for nearly a thousand years – she'll be dead in minutes." Ginny whimpered a little, doing her best to stop the blood flow with a strip of cloth torn from her sleeve. Harry took one look at Ginny, then at Riddle, then at the diary. The little book had ended up right by Harry's feet.

"If she dies, so be it on your head," Harry said, his green eyes flashing dangerously. In one swift motion, he stabbed the diary with the basilisk fang in his hand.

"NO!" Riddle shouted, but it was too late. Ink flew in all directions and pages tore themselves to shreds as the diary absorbed the poison. Finally, with one drawn-out scream, the memory-Riddle exploded, leaving nothing but a ruined book behind.

"Harry." Her voice was so weak.

"Ginny, you are _not_ going to die on me, you hear?" Harry said, grasping her shoulders and forcing her to meet his gaze. "You've helped me too much with this to die now!"

"Harry, didn't you hear what Riddle said?" Ginny shivered violently. "It's killing me, and there's nothing we can do."

A chirp at their sides made them jump, and they turned to stare at the bird that had blinded the basilisk.

"It's a phoenix," Ginny whispered in awe. "He's so beautiful…" The creature bowed its head and chirped again as if thanking her. Then, it rested its head on her wound and began to cry. To their amazement, her cut instantly healed itself, the skin melding so seamlessly that it was as if she'd never been wounded at all.

"Wow," Ginny breathed. "I never thought I'd see that happen."

"What just happened?" Harry asked, still gawking at the magnificent bird, which was now preening its scarlet plumage.

"Phoenix tears have healing powers, didn't you know? This bird just saved my life. You really are quite the creature, aren't you?" she said softly, reaching out to stroke the bird. The phoenix nuzzled her hand in response.

A groan from behind them made them turn. Ron had woken up.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks much for the follows/faves/reviews! There's a reason it was Ron, I promise...**

**Sorry I didn't get this up yesterday like I thought I would - I've been fighting some sort of fever/bug thing for the last 24 hours & have been sleeping a lot/wasn't exactly up to writing. 1-2 more chapters left of this one - depends how long it takes me to wrap things up - then we're off to part 3! JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Please R&R, & enjoy! :)**


	17. The Sorting Hat Speaks

As soon as they were all back in the corridor – the phoenix having helpfully flown them all back up the pipe – Lockhart tried to bolt.

"Oh, no you don't," Ginny hissed, grabbing hold of his sleeve. "You are _not_ going to try to pull something on me when I just found out you attacked my best friend. You're coming with us, got it?" Lockhart whimpered something unintelligible and allowed the fiery redhead to drag him down the corridor, Harry chuckling to himself as he followed. Ron walked at his side, not saying anything as he kept his gaze to the floor. Harry honestly had no idea what to say to his roommate, so their silent journey was rather awkward.

After a few minutes' walk, the phoenix stopped in front of a stone gargoyle. The bird chirped, and the gargoyle sprang to life, leaping aside to expose a spiral staircase. Speechless, the group followed the bird onto the staircase, which began to move as soon as they had all climbed on, gently winding them higher and higher until the steps stopped at a simple wooden door, a knocker shaped like a phoenix hanging in the middle.

"Should we knock?" Ginny wondered in a whisper.

"S'pose so," Harry replied with a shrug. He reached over her shoulder and tapped the knocker against the door three times before it swung in of its own accord.

"Oh my goodness…Ginny…Harry…_Ron!"_

It was Mrs. Weasley who had cried out, but Mr. Weasley, Sirius, Lily, Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape, and Draco all leapt to their feet at the group's entrance. They'd been seated in comfortable-looking chairs in front of an elegant desk, behind which sat Professor Dumbledore. The phoenix gracefully arced over their heads to land on a simple perch behind the desk, and Harry realized with a start that this particular bird was the headmaster's pet.

Dumbledore's office was a sweeping, circular room full of all sorts of interesting knick-knacks. A number of silver instruments Harry didn't recognize sat on a small table, whirring and puffing quietly. A magnificently carved fireplace played host to a crackling fire, and Harry was sure Hermione would've fainted at the sheer number of books marching smartly across the many bookcases covering a large portion of the wall space. Directly behind the headmaster's desk were portraits of past headmasters and headmistresses of Hogwarts – many appeared to be asleep, but a second look confirmed that they were faking, clearly much more interested in the goings-on inside the office than in taking a nap. The thick rug covering most of the stone floor felt luxuriously soft even under his trainers. Harry decided that he very much liked this room, even if his reasons for being there might end in serious trouble.

"Harry, what the hell is going on?" Sirius demanded. Harry could understand his godfather's question – he and Ginny were covered in water, slime, and blood, Ginny was still carrying the heavily stained sword, and they had in their company their least favorite professor and a boy who until then everyone presumed dead. To say it was a strange scenario was a massive understatement.

"Erm…well, it's kind of a long story," Harry admitted as the foursome moved forward to join the group.

"We have plenty of time," Dumbledore assured them.

"Well…alright, then." Harry promptly launched into the story from the beginning, aided occasionally by Ginny and Draco when he felt they could better explain portions of the tale. They went through everything – their discovery of Colin and subsequent investigations, their encounters with the diary, Hermione's notes and everything associated with them, Moaning Myrtle, and every detail of their trip into the Chamber of Secrets. Mrs. Weasley got progressively paler as the children recounted their fight with the basilisk, and although they purposely left out Ginny's being stabbed, she was still breathing heavily and needed several minutes to compose herself once they'd finished.

"Why'd I have to miss out on all the fun?" Draco muttered just loud enough for his friends to hear.

"Trust me, Drake, you didn't want to be there," Harry replied. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

"You took too long," the blonde said simply. "I was sick of waiting around so I made Professor Snape bring me up here, since I was pretty sure this was where you'd end up eventually." Harry and Ginny both laughed.

"What happens now, Professor?" Harry asked Dumbledore.

"Whatever do you mean?"

"Well…" he gestured towards Lockhart and Ron, neither of whom had yet spoken.

"I would be interested in hearing anything they have to add, of course," Dumbledore said. "Gilderoy, why don't you go first? I'll admit I'm very much intrigued."

"I…I don't have anything to say!" Lockhart nearly shouted almost immediately, looking very much frightened.

"Are you sure about that?" Harry asked, narrowing his eyes at the man. "Because even though we don't know your 'deep dark secret', I'm almost positive Hermione does – correction, she definitely does, considering what you did to her for it – and I'm sure she'll have _quite_ a lot to say about it when she wakes up and finds out who's responsible." Lockhart started shaking like mad.

"I'm a fraud!" he finally yelled out. "I didn't actually do any of the stuff I wrote about – the only thing I'm good at is Memory Charms. I'm sure you can figure out the rest!"

"So you just took credit for a bunch of other people's work after you'd wiped their memories to ensure they wouldn't remember doing it?" Ginny reiterated. "You're even worse than I thought."

"Ginny!" Mrs. Weasley scolded, appalled that her daughter would speak so brazenly to a professor, but Ginny silenced her mother with a look.

"You won't have to think that for long, Miss Weasley," Lockhart replied, whipping out his wand. "Like I said, I'm excellent at Memory Charms. One little word and none of you will remember this little exchange…"

_"Expelliarmus!"_ Draco shouted. Lockhart's wand shot out of his hand straight towards the Slytherin, and Professor McGonagall took advantage of the blonde professor's disorientation to bind him from head to foot.

"There will be none of _that,_" she said sharply as she finished her work with a Silencing Charm. "You've just admitted to not only attacking one of the most well-known students in Hogwarts, but also permanently ruining several prominent people's lives before stealing credit for their hard work. I think an insider's guide to Azkaban might be a prudent subject for your precious next book." Lockhart could do no more than cower under her fierce glare.

"And what about you, Mr. Weasley?" Dumbledore asked gently. Ron looked up fearfully, his blue eyes clouded with tears.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered. "For everything."

"Mr. Weasley, do not be so hard on yourself," Dumbledore said. "Any fully qualified witch or wizard would have been no less vulnerable in your situation. Let the consequences of your actions be a lesson to you in the future."

"Yes, sir," Ron mumbled.

"I do have one question, however – do you happen to know who gave you the diary?"

"No, sir," Ron replied just as quietly. "The first I saw of it was when I found it in my trunk the first night back."

"I see." This was the first time Dumbledore seemed disappointed with Ron's answer. "We'll just have to keep investigating, then." He paused to survey the group. "Minerva, might I suggest you take Mr. Weasley here to the hospital wing? He's been through quite a lot this evening and I'm sure Poppy will have just what he needs. Arthur and Molly are, of course, welcome to join you."

"Of course." With a curt nod to the headmaster, Professor McGonagall led the three Weasleys from the office.

"Severus, if you could please take Gilderoy down to the staff room – Dobby the house-elf can watch over him there – and then send an owl to the Ministry. I'm sure they'll be very interested in what he has to say."

"Gladly," Snape said. He sneered at Lockhart and guided the bound man from the room.

"Now…Miss Weasley, might I see that sword?" Dumbledore asked. Ginny nodded, a tad perplexed, and handed over the item.

"This is indeed a weapon of no parallel," Dumbledore said as he examined the blade. "Tonight's battle was truly one of Slytherin and Gryffindor."

"Sir?"

"See for yourself." He held the blade close to the candlelight and gestured towards something. Just below the hilt was engraved a name: _Godric Gryffindor._

"Wow…" Ginny breathed. "This was actually Gryffindor's sword?"

"Indeed," Dumbledore replied with a small smile. "Consider it an honor, Miss Weasley – only a true Gryffindor could have pulled this particular object from the Sorting Hat."

"Speaking of…" Harry muttered, "Why the Sorting Hat? And is that your bird?"

"Hmm…well, I suppose I don't really know how to answer your first question, Harry," Dumbledore replied. "It just seemed like the right thing to do – and judging by what happened, I'd say I was right. As for your second question, yes, this is Fawkes."

"He's beautiful," Ginny said, repeating her earlier assessment of the bird. Fawkes chirped a few notes and flew to sit gracefully on her knee, where she stroked his feathers fondly.

"Indeed he is," Dumbledore agreed. "Cross your fingers that you never have to see him on a burning day – he's exactly the opposite of beautiful then." Fawkes squawked indignantly, but Dumbledore just shrugged.

"You know it's true, my friend."

"So what now?" Draco asked once he and the others had finished admiring the sword.

"What do you mean, 'what now'?" Lily asked incredulously. "Don't you three think you've gotten into more than enough trouble for one school year? First there was the trip down the trapdoor last year, now this year you're chasing giant snakes and fighting Voldemort with a sword…Merlin, are you ever going to just be normal kids?"

"Nope," Harry and Draco said simultaneously, grinning at each other. "Sorry, Mum."

"Lil, what did you expect?" Sirius said, letting out an amused snort. "They're both blood relatives of Marauders, after all."

"I suppose you're right," Lily replied as she rolled her eyes. "It would make my life quite a bit easier if they weren't, though."

"But not nearly as much fun, right?" Draco countered with a smirk.

"Don't you give me that, young man," Lily scolded, swatting his arm playfully. "I'm surprised I haven't gone prematurely gray, with all that you lot get up to!" They all laughed at that.

"In spite of the fact that you did indeed break nearly a hundred school rules into pieces this year, I can't deny the courage and loyalty behind your actions," Dumbledore said. "I have no doubt that you saved Mr. Weasley's life tonight, and you preemptively saved countless others by killing the basilisk and destroying the diary. I plan to look further into the matter of the diary – the part of your story about it sucking energy from Mr. Weasley's soul is particularly distressing – and I'm sure you'll all be happy to hear that the Mandrake Restorative will be ready very soon. You will each receive one hundred points for your respective houses, as well as Special Awards for Services to the School."

"What about Hermione?" Harry asked. "We couldn't have done any of this without her help."

"Yes, I do believe that Miss Granger's help, while indirect, was vital," Dumbledore agreed. "She will also receive points and an award, although I will wait to grant them formally until I can do it in person."

"I think she'd appreciate that," Ginny concurred, "although she'll just be happy it's all over." Dumbledore nodded.

"I think it's time you three trot off to bed," he said. "It's been quite an eventful evening and I'm sure you could do with the rest – not to mention a shower," he added with a chuckle towards Harry and Ginny. They quickly agreed.

"Thank you, Professor," they chorused. The children bid Sirius and Lily goodnight as well and were just about to leave when a voice spoke:

_Three join four when six are gone  
__And the Chosen One teams with his closest  
__To bring down darkness immortal.  
__The legend in her sacred vault  
__Unlocks magic within the stone.  
__Bronze and black together in friendship,  
__Silver and gold given freely  
__In the name of the enemy's ignorance.  
__Learn who your friends really are  
__To break a blood chain forged at birth:  
__Not all is as it appears –  
__Look to the safe for the answers.  
__Blades and bonds join wands and words.  
__Ghosts will be your cloak  
__As Hogwarts herself joins the chase.  
__Let strengths be your guide,  
__Let differences unite you,  
__And evil will meet its end._

The room's occupants could do nothing more but stare in shock at the now motionless Sorting Hat.

* * *

_Thus concludes part 2 - the story continues in part 3, 'I Smell a Rat'._

* * *

**A/N: And so we've reached the end of part 2 - I'd really love to know what you thought of this chapter, as I wrote this prophecy ages ago & am really excited about where it's going to take us! Very curious to hear your guesses...**

**Thank you, as always, for the follows/faves/reviews! I know I've been spitting out chapters like crazy this week, & I'm glad you all keep reading!**

**As always, JKR owns all things Potter, I just play. Chapter 1 of part 3, 'I Smell a Rat,' is written & going up in just a few minutes - hope to see you there! Please R&R, & enjoy! :)**


End file.
